


Street Rats

by winterwaters



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Ned's Alive, Prince Gendry, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The Starks are all alive and visit Kings Landing upon an invite from Robert. Arya gets bored and escapes, running into Gendry on the streets. Unbeknownst to her, he's one of Robert's recently acknowledged bastards. Both pretend to be commoners and shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title and various bits of plot inspired hugely by Aladdin. I've been wanting to do a "prince Gendry" fic for a while :3. Hope you enjoy!

Arya looked at her bag in disgust. Not one tunic or pair of trousers was visible, thanks to her mother. With a sigh, she dug through the endless pile of skirts and dresses before finding a simple brown dress. The color reminded her much of the streets in King’s Landing, so she figured it would be easiest to hide stains. 

Slipping it on, she shoved at the wide sleeves, tempted once again to take her knife to them and the hem. Thankfully, she’d managed to sneak in her favorite pair of worn gray boots, which she now slipped on under her dress.

Normally, Arya would have left her hair in a loose braid, but after having spent the entire previous night with her hair up in some intricate Southern style, she was relieved to keep it loose over her shoulders.

The last thing she grabbed was her belt - another gift from Jon on her last name day. He’d purposely had it made so she could wear it over her simple shifts and dresses, letting Needle or another knife hang at her waist. She did have two daggers slipped into her boots, but she had been aching to take Needle out for a proper turn in the practice yard. So she sheathed her sword and slipped her tiny, theadbare pouch over her shoulder, slinging it across her body. Just in case she needed the few coins she’d stashed away.

Peeking outside her door, Arya saw her chance. The hall was blissfully empty. She crept down the corridor and through the side stairwell, careful to keep silent. Reaching the maze of passageways that ran under the castle, she all but ran until she was emerging from a cellar behind an unused shop. Brushing herself off, she noted the dirt already staining her dress with a grin. Then she slipped into the crowd, thrilled that she’d managed to make her escape - however temporary it might be.

For a while, Arya wandered aimlessly, not having a destination in mind. She only wanted to enjoy the fresh air, having had enough of the stuffy castle. Then a commotion at one of the stalls made her stop. A little girl was crying, while an older girl - her sister, possibly her mother - pleaded with a shopkeeper not to punish her. The little one must have swiped something without paying, Arya thought. Feeling the coins in her purse, she made her way over to the group. As the man’s arm came up to hit them, she sidled directly in front of him, holding out her palm. 

He looked at her suspiciously before snatching up the coins. She rolled her eyes at his greed but ushered the two girls away all the same, and then headed back into the crowd. Turning a corner, Arya nearly ran into someone. About to apologize, she noticed the twisted smirk on his face and immediately backed up, her hand going to her sword hilt. 

“I’m sure you’ve got more coins where that came from,” he cooed, and her skin crawled.

She removed Needle only halfway, hoping the glint from the sword would send him a message. It didn’t. Instead, his grin only widened.

“Oh, even better. I’ll take that, too.” 

_Just bloody great._ Arya tried to move faster, forgetting she wasn’t in her usual trousers. Her legs tangled in her long dress, and before she knew it she was sitting on her bottom as the boy approached, standing over her. He extended a hand smugly. “Enough playing. Give it here, now.”

Arya felt a rush of anger. “You want it?” She had Needle out in a flash, gripping the boy’s wrist with her other hand and propelling herself to her feet. “Come and get it,” she declared, pointing the tip of the blade straight at him. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure of himself.

“I’ve already killed one rude boy today,” she lied, advancing. “I’m good at killing rude boys. I _like_ killing rude boys.”

He shrank away, trying to tug away from her grip only to bump into the broad chest of a young man, who Arya realized with a start had seen the whole thing.

“So you like picking on the little ones, do you?” His voice was low and gravely, blue eyes hard as he gazed down at the twerp in front of him. “You know, I’ve been swinging a hammer these past ten years, and when I hit that steel it sings. Are you gonna sing when I hit you?”

The boy whimpered and rushed off, falling twice in his haste to get away.

Arya smirked and looked back at the newcomer, whose face had undergone a startling transformation in mere moments. Now he was grinning freely, high-fiving a smaller chubby boy next to him as he turned back to Arya. Stupidly, she noticed his blue eyes had softened incredibly, glinting with mischief as he looked down at her.

“Have you really been swinging a hammer for ten years?” She blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

He smiled easily, nodding. “Aye. Ten years and counting, though it’s a bit less now.” A shadow crossed his face very briefly. She saw the soot staining his arms, confirming his words. Then he noticed her sword, lifting the tip with a careful hand. 

“This is castle-forged steel.” He eyed her. “Where’d you steal it?”

“It was a gift.”

She was surprised when he didn’t accuse her of lying, what with her now-bedraggled clothes.

“Well, keep it close. You’ve got people of all kinds wandering around King’s Landing - rapers, pickpockets, murderers.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Which are you?”

He threw back his head and laughed, his thick black hair becoming even more mussed by the wind. When he’d caught his breath, he replied, “Armorer’s apprentice.”

The chubby boy barged forward. “Well, he used to be, before they came and-” 

The older boy cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “Please shut up,” he told him, not unkindly. To Arya, he said, “This is Hot Pie.”

“That’s his name?”

“Trust me, he lives up to it.” He grinned again, shoving a hand out in greeting. “I’m Gendry.”

She chewed her lip, gazing up at him once more before tentatively putting her palm in his. “Arya.”

“Is this your first time in King’s Landing?”

“The first that I remember,” she admitted. “I think we came here once before, but I was too young to recall any of it.”

“Really? Well then we must give you a proper tour.” He winked disarmingly. “What do you say? Would you like to get lost for a while, Arya?”

Unwittingly, she felt a big smile pull at her face in answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry and Hot Pie seemed to know the best parts of the city - the parts nobody would have dreamed of even taking her. Especially not her parents. But, she reasoned, she was seventeen and deserved a day to herself before she got roped into marrying some lord or another.

Besides, her two guides were eager to show her the sights and sounds. Gendry seemed to understand that she would appreciate actually seeing the city rather than just being told about it, without her having to say as much. It was refreshing, and to her utter consternation, rather appealing.

Arya was shaken out of her thoughts by a loud yell, and suddenly a few ladies were rushing towards them. “Here comes the cavalry,” came a low murmur in her ear, and she laughed as Gendry pulled her out of the way. The women surrounded Hot Pie, their white aprons almost entirely covered in some type of foodstuff. Arya smelled everything from heavy sauce to honey to flour as they continued on, clucking not unlike hens in a chicken coop. 

She murmured as much to Gendry, whose shoulders shook with mirth as he laughed. “Who are they?”

“Hot Pie works at an inn. This inn,” he pointed at the building in front of them. “He bakes in the kitchen. I suppose they want to drag him off to make more bread or the like.”

He raised his voice. “Oy, Hot Pie, bring some of your cake for our visitor, won’t you?” To her, he mentioned, “His rum cake is delicious. Sells out in minutes.”

“Then how do you know there’s more?”

“I made him keep a couple extra pieces in hiding,” he responded smugly, and she chuckled again. 

“So you’ve known each other a while, then?”

His eyes followed Hot Pie into the inn before he looked back down at her. “Since we were little. I ran into him once when some boys would have robbed him blind.” Gendry shook his head. “Idiot. He was flashing about all the money he’d made. No wonder.”

“What about you then, hmm?” He asked.

Arya shielded her eyes from the midday sun as she squinted up at him. “What about me?”

“Why would you help out those two girls like that?”

“It wasn’t their fault. The little one can barely walk. How was she to know what’s right and wrong?” She shrugged. “Besides, I wasn’t going to use the coin for anything important.”

“Plus, you had your sword,” he teased.

Her hands unconsciously found the hilt for comfort. “Needle,” she corrected. “That’s the name of my sword.”

When Gendry smiled, she wondered if one could fly simply on the strength of a smile. 

Then Hot Pie returned, carrying a small box. “Here. Make sure you go to the docks,” he said, and Gendry’s face fell.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“Miss Bryn said I have to stay. Important guests coming soon.” Hot Pie shrugged apologetically at Arya. “There’s extra cake in here for you.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled and waved as he headed back inside.

“Well that’s a bummer. But at least he’ll make some extra coin.” Gendry turned to her, holding up the box. “This tastes even better with coffee.”

Arya wrinkled her nose. “Coffee? What’s that?”

His eyes widened - gods, they were blue as that bloody dress mum had wanted her to wear tonight. “You’ve never had coffee? Come on.”

Then he was marching off, long legs carrying him away quickly, and Arya picked up her skirts and ran to catch up. Gendry stopped at a small shop, cheerily conversing with the shopkeeper before handing her two steaming cups. He placed a small bag on top of Hot Pie’s box and motioned her along.

“Do you know _everyone_ in this city?” Arya questioned.

He laughed. “Hardly. Just a few people who’ve been good to me.”

His voice was open and honest, and she smiled to herself. He was a loyal friend, indeed. Gendry stopped by the docks, sitting down under the shade of a tree as the boats came in and out of the harbor.

“One of my favorite spots,” he explained as he opened the box. “There’s always something happening here.”

Arya had to agree. Between the smell of the salty sea air and the sizzle of cooking fish and crab, the dock was filled with the shouts of sailors and tradesman alike. People of all different shapes and sizes arrived and departed on equally diverse ships.

A decidedly different, bitter aroma made her look down. Gendry had removed the paper lid from the cups, and now the black liquid steamed richly as he mixed in the sugar.

Handing her a cup, he added, “Hopefully you don’t want milk, because they don’t have any. It’d curdle right away in this heat.”

Arya took a hesitant sip, making a face at first. Gendry noticed her expression and chuckled. “Trust me, it grows on you. Try it with cake.”

She broke off a piece of the soft, crumbly cake. Nibbling a small piece, she found it was in fact just as delicious as he’d promised, and now she broke off more. “Hot Pie made this?” She asked around a full mouth.

Gendry nodded. “Right? Told you.” 

Swallowing, she found her mouth dry. So she gulped down some coffee, and realized that it suddenly wasn’t so bad. In fact, the bitterness was quite a welcome companion to the sweet cake.

“So they really don’t have coffee where you’re from?”

Gendry was looking at her with open curiosity, so she decided on a half-truth.

“The North,” Arya supplied, and his face dawned in understanding. “And no, we don’t.”

“So you’re a wild northern lady, then,” he was teasing, but she felt a flush creep up her neck anyways.

“I’m no lady,” she muttered, thinking of her straggly hair and mud-streaked dress.

Gendry cocked his head. “Not everyone would agree.” His smile could have melted butter. Seven hells, she was in deep trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they’d finished eating, Gendry pulled her to her feet, insisting she had one more place to see before he’d let her go. Arya didn’t argue. She wasn’t in much of a hurry to leave. She was sure that whatever happened today would be a singular event compared to the monotony of what awaited her back at the Keep.

So she followed happily, jumping over uneven stones and taking his hand when he offered to help her past some more rickety obstacles, like the broken-down horse cart that blocked the alley entrance. Gendry stopped midway down the narrow road in front of a boarded up building, fumbling with an old doorway before stepping back in frustration.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It’s usually not locked.”

Arya waved off his apology, but she wasn’t ready to return to reality yet. Looking around, she saw an open window on the third story.

Unlatching her sword belt, she handed it to him with a warning look to keep it safe. “Give me a boost.” 

When he only looked at her in confusion, she grabbed his chin and pointed his face upwards. “Give me a boost,” she repeated, and this time he grinned before setting her things on the ground - gently - and cupping his hands together. Arya tested his grip, unsurprised to find it rock steady. Taking a few steps back, she ran forward and jumped, her hands landing on his shoulders for the briefest of seconds before he launched her up.

She grabbed the nearest ledge, holding on with both hands until her breathing had steadied enough for her to test her grip. Carefully, she moved her leg into a divot in the wall, and started to make her way up.

“Do this often, do you?” Gendry’s amused voice drifted up to her.

“Oh yes, all the time,” she yelled back.

She was lucky. The stone was dry and easy to grip, and the wall was beaten enough that she could find a foothold here and there. With a last surge, she found herself at the ledge and tumbled over. Brushing dust off her face, Arya looked around, finding the stairs quickly. Bounding down the steps, she opened the door and grinned at Gendry.

“Still think I’m a lady?”

“The best kind,” he replied cheekily, handing back her belt and sword.

Arya flushed, smacking him before fitting the belt around her waist again. He led her back up the stairs, past where she’d entered, all the way to the top. The cool breeze hit her the moment they emerged onto the roof, and she sighed at the refreshing burst of air. 

Gendry took her elbow, pulling her to one side. “Best view in the city,” he grinned as her mouth dropped open. From where they stood, she could see the roofs of other small homes and the coloful tapestries formed by the tarps that hung over the streets. The docks lay further out, the ocean stretching as far into the horizon. Sunlight made the water shimmer as the waves crested against the boats going in and out of the harbor, their white sails unfurled like flags for all to see. Arya looked back at Gendry to thank him, but found herself rather speechless. He was bouncing on his feet, clearly satisfied by her reaction, and she turned back to the view, figuring he probably already knew what she had wanted to say.

They perched on the ledge, their legs dangling off as they sat in comfortable silence for a while. It was Gendry who spoke first.

“So what’s it like up North?”

Arya swiveled to face him. “You’ve never been?”

He shook his head. “Never really left the city. Didn’t have much of a reason to.”

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have left home either.” The words flew out as she thought them, and only moments later did she wince as she realized how that sounded.

“Who made you come?”

Arya looked back out at the city to avoid his eyes. Somehow she didn’t like lying to him, but right now she didn’t have a choice. “My parents. They’re visiting some friends … who want me to meet their kids.” 

She didn’t specify that they wanted her to meet their _son_ , but Gendry seemed to understand.

“Anyways,” Arya continued on. “The North is wonderful. There’s forests and mills and snow, snow for miles. And the people are wonderful. They’re hardworking, honest, good folk.” She almost began to tell him a story about Nymeria, but caught herself at the last moment. “Have you ever seen a snowfall?”

“No.” His voice was wistful. “I sure would love to, though.”

“It’s the best. My brothers and I used to go out and have snowball fights every year, until …” She trailed off until Gendry bumped her shoulder gently. 

“Until?” He prodded.

“Until everyone grew up,” she finished quietly, and moments later she looked down to see his pinky covering hers where their hands were braced on the ledge.

“Growing up sucks,” he confirmed, and she nodded, her throat tight.

They were both silent for some time until Gendry asked, “So was it one of your brothers who gave you the sword, then?”

Arya looked up in surprise. “How’d you know?”

He grinned. “It’s got a name and it’s well taken-care of - I know it means a lot to you, the way you’ve been looking after it all day. Plus, it’s made beautifully. I assumed it was a gift from someone who cared very much for you.”

Arya was startled by his observations, though by now she shouldn’t have been. Still, she wasn’t used to being noticed. Especially not by someone with such warm blue eyes. How could blue ever be warm? She hadn’t considered that until now.

Suddenly, shouts rang out behind them, and she turned to see two men emerge onto the roof.

“Shit.” Gendry was on his feet immediately. “Shit shit shit.” 

Arya stood also, feeling the wind at her back. “Who are they?”

But he wasn’t listening. After looking over the ledge and back at the men, he only grinned at her. Not understanding, she followed his gaze, feeling an absurd laugh bubble in her throat when she saw the huge cart of hay on the street below. Without stopping to ask, Gendry took her hand in his, and they jumped. 

Though the distance was longer than either would have preferred, the soft pile of hay provided enough of a barrier that they weren’t horribly bruised. Gendry groaned and pulled himself out of the cart, reaching back into lift her up and out also, his large hands strong and steady around her waist.

Hearing the yells from above, he clasped her hand again and they took off running down the street, their laughs echoing in the alley. Skidding onto the main street, they ducked and weaved through the crowd, Gendry’s grip on her hand tight as ever. The noise of the shopkeepers and clattering horsehooves drowned out the yells, which soon faded altogether. Arya still had a smile on her face as Gendry pulled her into another narrow lane and behind a tall gate, finally stopping for breath.

Leaning against the wall, Arya let herself laugh, uncaring of who heard. Her whole body shook as she bent over, clutching her sides.

“That was fun,” she gasped. When Gendry didn’t reply, she looked up to see him watching her closely. His face was unreadable.

“What?”

In answer, he stepped closer and cupped her neck, pressing his mouth to hers.

_Oh._

His lips were rough and chapped, though they moved gently against hers, easing, willing, until she overcame her surprise and tried to move her own mouth in tandem. It came more easily than she would have thought, and soon her hands were twined around his neck, trying to bring him closer as he pressed her back against the wall. He tasted of coffee and rum and it made her drunk, the entirety of him and the moment made her drunk, and she drowned in it.

Then the castle bells were ringing out over the city to signify eventide, and she broke away in surprise. Undeterred, Gendry placed small, feather-like kisses along her jaw, his hands creating a most distracting friction everywhere they roamed.

When the bells sounded again, and louder, Arya pushed him back, holding him at arm’s length as she tried to collect herself. 

“I have to go.”

“So soon?” He was teasing, but his voice held a hint of resignation that Arya wanted to soothe away with her lips. She resisted.

“My parents are expecting me. If I don’t show, they’ll come looking.”

He nodded, understanding, as she’d known he would. “Can I at least walk you back?”

“No!” Arya tried to soften her words. “Well, not- not the whole way. My dad can be a bit … protective.”

Gendry easily agreed, and soon they were winding through the streets again, though much slower than before. Finally, they reached the spot where they’d met that morning, and Arya knew her daydream was over. Though part of her wondered if he would ask to see her again, somehow she knew he wouldn’t. She got the idea that today had been an escape for them both.

Gendry brought her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, his smile anything but safe. “It was nice to meet you, Arya.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from kissing him, knowing she’d never leave otherwise. “Nice to meet you too, Gendry,” she grinned and winked before hitching up her skirts and dashing off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya managed to sneak back in the way she’d come, shutting herself in her room only to have Sansa wake up in surprise from their shared bed. 

“Please don’t call mum,” she pleaded, and though her sister took a moment to recover, she eventually agreed. 

They hadn’t been very close as young girls, with Arya preferring to play with the boys and Sansa learning to be a proper lady. But somehow, they’d found small things in common as they got older, and now they managed to make each other laugh more often - though, they couldn’t help but make each other yell or cry now and then, either.

She washed off quickly in the bath, hearing Sansa shoo off the septon who would have tried to help. 

“Mum laid out a dress for you,” her sister called, and Arya rolled her eyes.

“Great.”

She rubbed her skin raw, trying to erase any trace of where she’d been. Catelyn Stark had the eyes of a hawk. She would know if Arya had gotten into any messes. With a small grin, Arya congratulated herself on her decidedly unladylike day.

Her sister laced up her corset when she was done. “Just suck in a bit more. One more deep breath, come on,” she urged, and Arya did her best to follow the instructions, feeling the laces tighten and restrict her torso.

After fitting Sansa’s corset, she looked on the chair to find the dress her mother had laid out and tried not to laugh out loud. It was the same dress she’d thought of earlier that day - the same color as Gendry’s eyes. Arya shrugged into the soft fabric, letting the wide sleeves and skirt fall around her.

“Do we have to do our hair up again?” She asked, afraid of the answer.

“Gods, I hope not,” came Sansa’s reply. “I’ve had a headache all day.”

Arya grinned. Then the door opened as their mother walked in, and Arya did her best to look presentable. Sansa pestered her about their hair, eventually getting her to agree to modestly clipping half of it back and leaving the rest loose.

Though Arya had agreed to the dress, she still adamantly refused any jewelry, letting Sansa take her pick. Then they were heading downstairs, and Arya smiled as she saw her father waiting. Since there was nobody else around, she abandoned formality and gave him a tight hug before stepping back. 

“You both look lovely,” he said with a smile. Catelyn ushered Sansa forward, but when she would have followed, her father laid a hand on her arm. “One moment, please.”

Arya stood back in confusion as he kneeled in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to tell you something before we go in. I only just found out a few hours back.” He was nervous, and that made her worry also, but she tried to be brave, as he had always taught her.

He sighed. “King Robert intends to introduce you to his son tonight. He would like to join our houses, if you both will agree to it.”

Her stomach churned at his words, and she fought the tears threatening to squeeze past her eyelids. “Which son?”

“It’s rather complicated, to be honest. I would prefer to explain it all to you both, once you’ve met.” Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “Arya, he will not be heir to the Iron Throne. That, I can assure you.”

Arya gave him a weak smile. That _was_ something, but at the moment her emotions were too overwhelming. 

“Arya.” His voice was serious. “You know I would not have you do anything you did not want to.” 

She nodded, the love for her father pushing past all her other feelings. “I know.”

“I love you, sweetling.”

“Love you too, dad.”

He stood and offered her his arm, leading her into the main hall. Arya let her mask slip into place, nodding and smiling politely as others while her mind continued to swirl with thoughts. Then King Robert was calling out to them in his boisterous voice, giving her father a hug before turning to her.

“As I hope your dad has mentioned, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” Arya tried not to grimace at the wine on his breath, only nodding and giving a polite smile in reply. Robert straightened and looked around. “Ah, there he is. Well, come on, then,” he called.

Arya took a deep breath, trying not to turn until the last minute. Then Sansa was standing next to her quietly, and she knew it was time. Feeling her skirts swish around her, Arya turned around.

And her heart nearly stopped. 

Gendry stared back at her, his mouth agape. Arya felt herself similarly awestruck as her gaze wandered his now clean face, down to his deep blue doublet and black trousers. Looking up again, she saw he’d found control of his jaw, though he was dangerously close to bursting into laughter. Giggles were bubbling up inside her as well, threatening to spill past her lips. His eyes danced brightly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Then Sansa’s elbow connected with her ribs, and Arya tried to gather her wits.

“M’lord,” she said with a smirk, dipping into a curtsy.

His blue eyes glimmered with amusement as he bowed. “M’lady.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouraging comments! You guys are awesome :)

Gendry bowed to Arya’s sister and mother, then turned to her father. But before he could do anything, it was her father who bowed deeply to him. Arya saw Gendry’s careful expression slip in surprise as he nearly took a half-step back.

“P-p-please, m’lord, there’s no need-”

“Prince Gendry,” her father interrupted him smoothly. “It’s good to finally meet you. You’ve grown to be a fine young man.” 

Something about the reassurance in her father’s voice made Gendry compose himself within seconds. He bowed low before speaking again, his voice more controlled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark,” he said humbly. “The king speaks very highly of you.”

The king. Not ‘my father.’ His choice of words didn’t escape Arya’s attention, and she suspected her dad had noticed, as well.

Robert burped loudly behind her, and both she and Gendry winced. “Let’s give the kids a few moments to themselves,” he declared, taking Ned by the shoulder. Catelyn and Sansa followed as Robert went on about the feast and drinks to be had that night.

Immediately, Arya stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” Despite herself, she was unable to contain the glee in her voice.

Gendry laughed, just as warm and rich as she had remembered. “Me? What about _you_ , m’lady?”

“Don’t call me m’lady,” Arya warned. “And I asked you first.”

Greatly amused, he nodded. “Alright. Well, it’s quite a long story, but for the moment I’ll just say that when I reached a certain age, I was told of my true parentage and brought here by King Robert. He thought it was time to acknowledge at least one of his bastards.” The last bit was tacked one with more than a little resentment, and before she realized what she was doing, Arya had put a hand on his arm. She knew all too well the restraints of a noble’s life.

For a moment, he simply looked down to where her hand rested on his forearm. Then his other hand covered hers, squeezing briefly as he looked up with a true smile, the dimples in his cheeks evident.

“I’m very glad to see you, Arya.” 

A warm, glowing feeling uncurled inher chest, spreading to seemingly every crevice in her body, and she was helpless but to return his sentiment with a beaming grin. Gendry’s gaze shifted over her shoulder for an instant, making her drop her hand as she again remembered where they were. His voice was hushed when he spoke next.

“Listen. In a few moments, they’ll probably whisk us away to dine and do gods know what else. But I want to see you away from all these prying gossips, so we can talk properly. Will you meet me later tonight?” Before she could answer, he hastily added, “I want you to know, everything that happened earlier today was true.”

Arya pushed down all the voices telling her to grab his hand and run. “I already know,” she told him. “But I’ll come.”

Gratefully, he nodded and offered her his arm just as she felt a touch on her shoulder. Her mother was eyeing her carefully - probably wondering when she would try to make a run for it, Arya guessed wryly.

“Lady Stark,” Gendry cut in. “I was just about to escort Lady Arya to the main table.”

Arya shot him a quick glare even though he was steadfastly avoiding her gaze. But his laughing blue eyes told her he knew exactly what he’d said.

Her mother smoothly accepted the invitation, walking alongside them and ensuring that Arya was seated next to him for dinner. Robert stood, a tad shakily, and raised his cup, once again introducing the family and thanking them for visiting the court. As soon as he sat, everyone dug into the feast in earnest.

Gendry had been right. There were eyes and ears everywhere, and currently, most were focused directly on them. So when he offered her a plate of fruit and cheese or more drink, playing the part of the gracious host, Arya did her best to seem politely attentive, as people expected of a girl whose marriage had just been arranged.

Marriage. It was the first time she’d properly thought of the word since she’d seen Gendry. The word brought on no less panic than before. She wasn’t ready to be a wife, no matter who the man happened to be. She knew what was expected from women, and none of the obligations or responsibilities were things she was willing to take on. Her whole life was ahead of her, but as soon as she was wed, nearly every open door would shut, leaving very few paths to take.

All the thoughts crowded her mind in mere moments, making her close her eyes against the onslaught. The main dishes had arrived at the tables, but the smell of meat and gravy only made her sick. Her hands clenched into fists under the table, nails purposely digging into her palm to fight the wave of nausea that was rising inside her. Then calloused fingers were wrapping around her left hand, slowly prying it open and lacing their fingers together. A thumb stroked soothingly over her skin, and Arya focused on only the patterns it traced, willing herself to take several uneasy breaths.

Then a far stronger aroma had all her senses tingling, and she opened her eyes to find a cup of black liquid right at her lips Gendry smiled softly, urging her to take a sip. Raising her hand to steady the cup, she drank some of the coffee, feeling her stomach settle. Arya rested her head against the back of the heavy chair, squeezing their joined hands gratefully.

He pushed her plate towards her. “You need to eat.”

She poked half-heartedly at the grapes for a few minutes, taking small bites of the small cubes of cheese. Lifting her head, she found his worried gaze still on her.

“We need to talk,” she mumbled.

“We will,” came his firm reply. “I promise. But you must eat if you’re to even stay awake until then.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Arya made herself take in some of the bread and cheese, though she refused all the meat. She noticed that he steadfastly ignored the wines and ales, instead keeping to water or coffee. Hearing Robert’s drunken laughter at the other end of the table, she could see why.

Gendry inched his chair closer to hers. “So if you were home in Winterfell, what would you be doing at a feast like this?”

Arya grinned immediately. “Either hiding or feeding scraps to Nymeria.”

“Nymeria?”

“My wolf,” she explained. “Dad found family of wolf pups when we were younger, so he brought home one for each of us. We grew up together. She loves to play and hunt and be wild.”

Gendry was smiling. “She sounds perfect for you.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“I’d like to meet her.”

Arya sat forward in her chair, suddenly eager. “You could, if you came to Winterfell. I think you’d like it there.”

“I think so too,” he murmured, and his gaze made her toes curl. He leaned closer. “What do you think would happen if I kissed you right now?”

Arya’s heart was hammering loudly, even though she knew he was teasing. “You’d probably cause a riot.”

“That could be fun. Maybe we could escape again,” he wiggled his eyebrows for effect, breaking the spell and making her laugh.

Then a new smell wafted by, and she turned her head to find the source. 

“What is it?”

“Do I smell lemon cakes?”

There were crinkles by his eyes as he chortled, and she kicked him under the table.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a wolfhound in disguise?”

She stuck out her tongue. “You’ll never know.” 

Then Sansa plopped into the suddenly vacated seat next to her, holding a plate full of lemon cakes. Arya’s eyes widened. “Where did you get all those?”

Her sister’s smile was impish. “I may have sweet-talked a few dukes into giving me their share.” She giggled, holding the plate out to Arya, who instantly grabbed a couple. 

“We used to fight over the last one all the time,” Sansa explained to Gendry, who was watching them in great amusement.

“Used to? I seem to remember just last week-”

“Eat your lemon cake, Arya,” her sister interrupted primly. Arya winked at Gendry before happily taking a bite, feeling the sweet cake lift her mood even more.

The music suddenly became louder and much more joyful, evidently calling guests to dance. As Gendry opened his mouth, Arya shot him a look.

“Don’t even try it. I’d step on your feet in the first few seconds.”

He chuckled. “I was about to say the same thing,” he replied, and she grinned in surprise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening passed without much fanfare. To Arya’s surprise, they were mostly left to themselves. Hopefully on the orders of her father or the king. When she and Sansa were finally able to excuse themselves, they retired straight to their chambers. The septas fretted about until Sansa finally requested them to leave for the night, and Arya nearly hugged her in thanks.

She hadn’t had a second all day to think about just how tired she was, but now she was starting to acutely feel the soreness of her body along with the weight of her thoughts. Yawning, she changed into her threadbare shift and crawled into bed, deciding a nap might be in order after all.

But despite her tiredness, sleep only came for a handful of minutes over the next hour or two, and eventually Arya found herself wide awake and staring up at the dark ceiling as her sister snored beside her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about her luck. Not only had the day surpassed her expectations, but then she’d been surprised once more at dinner by Gendry’s presence. Arya had never truly considered what it might be like to marry a noble. She always thought she’d find a way out.

But if today was any indication, Gendry wasn’t like the nobles she knew. Would that change, as he became more adjusted to court life? She hoped not. She wondered if he even wanted to be a lord. Her father had said he wasn’t to inherit the Iron Throne. That could open up other possibilities. Somehow, the thought occurred to Arya that they might be able to create a new kind of life, far from the lies and obligations of King’s Landing. But she had to know more - more about Gendry and more about what exactly he _had_ inherited from the Baratheons. And just how much they intended to use him. 

Arya could wait no longer. Crawling out of bed carefully, she pulled on her worn traveler’s cloak and latched Jon’s belt around her waist. Leaving Needle aside, she slid two small knives into the sheaths. As she was debating going barefoot, Sansa shifted on the bed and suddenly sat up, looking at her in confusion.

“Arya?”

“It’s me. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?” Arya didn’t reply. “Are you going to see _him_? Arya, that’s not proper.”

“I covered for you plenty a time when the Tyrells visited,” Arya reminded her.

“That was different,” Sansa protested. “Willas and I were betrothed!”

“Yes, you were,” Arya agreed quietly.

Immediately, her sister’s eyes widened in understanding. “So it’s true, then? They’re pushing this on you?”

“They’re determined to join the houses.” Arya could hear the weariness in her own voice. “Please, Sansa. I just need to know _who_ it is I’m being asked to marry.”

Sansa hopped off the bed, coming over to envelop her in a tight hug, and for a moment Arya let herself breathe in the comforting rosemary scent, feeling like a child again. When she pulled back, Sansa firmly gripped her shoulders.

“Don’t do anything rash, alright?”

“Like what?”

Sansa sighed. “Just be careful, will you?”

Arya bit back her retort, nodding instead. “I will.” 

“And make sure you’re back before dawn. The septas report to mum, not me.”

Arya grasped her sister’s hand in thanks before slipping out the door and into the darkened hallway. Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t put on any shoes. But her bare feet made hardly a noise on the stone floors, making it that much easier to sneak through the castle.

Gendry had told her to come to the northeast wing of the castle, a mostly sparse selection of rooms that were rarely used anymore. Arya steps became lighter as she neared, somehow knowing he would be waiting. Sure enough, just as she bounded down a curving flight of stairs, she saw his tall figure waiting under the archway. His back was to her, so she slowed her pace to study him. His shoulders drooped as he leaned to one side against the wall, having changed back into a simple tunic and breeches. The stiff posture and niceties of court were gone, and he slouched, clearly relaxed now that he wasn’t constantly being examined.

It was too good an opportunity to waste. Arya crept up behind him, giving him no warning before she poked his sides - his apparently well-muscled sides - and whispered-yelled, “Boo!” 

Gendry jumped nearly a mile in the air, containing his shout of surprise at the last second. She doubled over in a fit of giggles as he whirled around. Though he attempted to maintain an expression of dignified irritation, it didn’t hold for long, and soon he was grinning sheepishly. His thick black hair was askew, standing up in all directions, and Arya had the inane urge to rake her hands through it.

“Hello to you, too.” When Gendry moved closer, Arya found her back flush against the wall. Though her skin prickled, she impishly grinned up at him.

“How do we keep finding ourselves in this position?”

“I’m not objecting,” he murmured, dipping his head.

She sighed when their lips met, all thoughts fleeing her mind to give her a moment of peace. Wedged between Gendry’s solid form and the wall, she wound her arms around his torso to keep him in place. He seemed to have no intention of moving, his lips fitting to her with a lazy ease over and over. He still tasted like coffee.

Arya protested when he finally pulled back, his breaths uneven. Gendry’s smile made heat unfurl in her belly like the sails of a ship - it was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. His hands came up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw.

“We really should talk,” he sighed.

She pouted. “But this is much more fun.”

“Arya … ”

“I know.” 

He leaned in to kiss her softly once more, his touch conveying a wordless promise. Then his fingers curled around hers, and he led her down the hall, past several rooms and back up another staircase.

“Where exactly are you taking me, ser?” Arya jested, but she was also increasingly curious.

“You’ll see.”

She rolled her eyes, but upon feeling a fresh wind from up ahead, she kept quiet. The top of the stairs emerged onto an open, wide balcony of sorts. The open space held a few benches and overgrown plants, but from here Arya could feel the cool night breeze tug at the hem of her shift. It seemed Gendry disliked being indoors as much as she did.

When he spoke, it only confirmed her thoughts. “I was starting to feel a bit trapped in there.”

“How’d you find this place?”

“When they first brought me here, I got restless pretty quickly. So I started wandering. I found out soon enough that practically nobody uses this part of the castle anymore, so it just kind of became my hideout.”

Arya’s curiosity got the better of her. “Who’s they?”

“What?”

“You said ‘they’ brought you here,” she explained.

“Right. That’s all part of what I wanted to tell you.” Gendry sat down heavily on a bench, patting the seat next to him. Arya curled her feet under body and plopped down, looking at him expectantly.

“Your father probably wants to tell you a shorter version of this tomorrow. I think he and the king are going to ambush us at breakfast. But I think it’s only fair that you hear the whole story from me.”

Arya nodded, grateful for his honesty.

“I was born as Gendry Waters, in Flea Bottom. Lived there for a while with my mum before she died of illness. I was quite little when it happened. Before I knew it, Master Tobho had taken me on as armorer’s apprentice. Still don’t know why exactly he took me, but I’m grateful he did. I worked there for years until one day … your father came to visit me.”

Arya was stunned. “My father?”

“Yeah. I was in quite a shock, too. He only stayed a few minutes, asking me about my parents and work and such.” Gendry’s eyebrows scrunched in thought. “He didn’t talk down to me, even though he was a noble. I never forgot that.”

“Anyways, a few months later a group of Gold Cloaks came for me. Master Tobho said he had no choice but to send me off, and they brought me back here. The king - well, his Hand, really - told me about my true birthright. Said if I was willing and worked hard, I could even have my own land someday.”

“Is that what you wanted?”

“I only wanted to be a smith and run around King’s Landing with Hot Pie.” Gendry grinned, but it was dimmer than before. “I guess the idea of having something to call _mine_ is what convinced me in the end. I’ve never really had ownership of anything.”

Now he looked at her carefully. “I think they mean to give me Storm’s End.”

Arya sucked in a breath. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’ve never been there. Have you?”

“No … I think father has, though.”

Gendry was quiet, twisting his fingers together in thought. Arya let his words sink in. No wonder he never had the airs of a noble. He didn’t take all this for granted, as most others did. His past gave him reason to appreciate the grandeur, but he wouldn’t get lost in it. He wouldn’t forget that others still lived the way he once had.

A gentle finger under her chin caused her to look up.

“You’re very quiet,” Gendry teased, but their was an undercurrent of worry in his voice.

Arya grasped his hand, winding her fingers with his again. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That’s it?” When she looked at him in confusion, he added, “You don’t … do you have any concerns?”

“About marriage? Only about a million.”

“No. About _me_ ,” he said quietly, and she ached to comfort him.

Shifting closer, she pressed her mouth to his in answer. He was stiff and unresponsive at first, but she refused to move, winding her arms around his neck. Moments later, she felt him yield with a long sigh, as if he’d set down a great weight, and his lips caressed her in grateful thanks. When he pulled away, it was only to lift her hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss, much as he’d done earlier that day. 

“Alright. About these million concerns … “ Gendry raised an eyebrow.

Arya paused. Where to start? 

“I can’t be someone’s wife,” she blurted out. “I don’t even know _how_ to be a wife. I can barely stand being a proper lady. I don’t sew or draw or sit still. Ever. I’d be the one to rip all the clothes, not repair them.” Now everything was spilling out like a dam that had given way. “I don’t know if I ever want children. I can barely take care of myself and Nymeria. And-” This was her biggest fear, the one she hadn’t shared with anyone, only because she was sure there was no solution. “I can’t be forever tied to someone to only be known as their wife, or always considered in relation to my … husband.” She stumbled over the word. “I just want to be _me_.”

Arya let out a breath in a whoosh, looking down at her lap as the breeze twisted her hair. Gendry was silent, but soon she felt him shaking next to her. Outraged, she looked up to see him trying to contain his laughter.

She yanked her hand back, pummeling him with her fists, however ineffective they might have been against his broad form. “You stupid, harebrained _oaf!_ You think this is funny?” 

The laughter escaped him in a rush as he held his hands up. “Wait, Arya-” He tried to catch his breath, eventually closing his hands over her wrists to hold her close, his grip strong and unyielding. Any struggling only ended up bringing her even closer, and he leaned forward so the tip of his nose was brushing hers.

“I’m not laughing at you. I swear it,” he said, and though she still glowered at him, she stopped wriggling. “I just didn’t think anyone could be more confused and muddled than I was, and yet, here you are.” 

Arya stuck her tongue out, only to have his lips chase it back inside her mouth with a warm kiss that left her breathless. She’d shifted so she was practically on his lap, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, so she stayed there.

“I really wasn’t laughing at you,” he repeated softly, and she nodded. “Now I know why you looked so pained at dinner.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Everything sort of hit me at once.”

“Doesn’t it always?” He was understanding in his amusement. “Now, let’s try to address your worries. For one thing, I think we can both agree the outdoors is much more entertaining.”

“About that. What were you doing today?”

“Same thing as you. Escaping.” Gendry gave her a small grin. “Also, seeing as I seem to constantly ruin my own clothing, I might actually feel better if my wife were to do the same.” Arya felt her face pull into its own smile. “As for children, seeing as we will be far from the Iron Throne, I don’t see how that’s an immediate concnern.”

“I’ll be expected to produce an heir,” she interruped. 

“Maybe. Or maybe some rules will change by then.” Though Arya didn’t believe him, she liked him all the more for saying it. “I think maybe we could learn to take care of each other. I certainly have no idea how to be a husband. Well, that’s not true.” Arya looked up to see his face scrunched in thought. “I guess I have an idea of what I _don’t_ want to be.”

“That’s a start,” she agreed.

“As for the last bit,” he continued, “I don’t see how anyone could ever see you as anything but Arya. And if they did somehow try to address you differently, I’m sure Nymeria and I could set them straight.”

Arya felt hot tears prick her eyes, and she pressed her face into the soft wool of his tunic. Gendry was content to sit with her, his chin resting atop her hair, and Arya had the somewhat silly notion that this wouldn’t be the last time they sat together like this. It was oddly comforting.

Still, she couldn’t help but worry. “You know, you might not always feel this way,” she muttered.

Instead of protesting, Gendry replied softly, “And you might decide you wanted a true noble as your partner.”

Immediately, Arya saw it. The thought was absurd. She hadn’t felt this comfortable around … well, _anyone_ before, aside from Jon or her father. If she was to make her father happy, and keep him in good standing with the king, she would have to marry. And though she was still scared by the thought, Gendry made it seem a little less frightening.

Absently pulling at a thread on his shirt, she asked, “Would you really come visit Winterfell?”

“If my betrothed requests it, how could I refuse?”

She smacked his chest before he’d finished the sentence, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, my betrothed?” Gendry grinned. “What shall I call you then? My intended? My love?”

Arya flushed, ignoring tingles that went up her spine at the last option. “How about just Arya?”

“Very well then, Arya.” Gendry began kissing her jaw before dragging his mouth down her neck to the dip of her collarbone. “I would love to visit.”

She was unable to form an answer, only threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him back to her lips. It was an unspoken agreement that they had done enough talking for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gendry walked her back to her room, despite her protests. His hair was mussed and sticking up even worse than before, and Arya was almost positive her lips were swollen. But she felt like a little kid again, sneaking back from a night of adventure, and it put a bounce in her step.

Finally reaching the hall, she stopped. “My room’s the first one.” 

He nodded, but when she would have continued on alone, he placed a hand on her elbow. When she looked up at him expectantly, he opened his mouth and then closed it, repeating the process one more time in his hesitation. 

Arya brought a hand to his face, gently touching his cheek, as she’d seen her mother do so often with her father. “What is it?”

Gendry pressed a kiss to her palm. “I wonder if, maybe after I visit Winterfell … would you like to see Storm’s End?” At her surprised look, he rushed on. “Since we are to live there and neither of us have ever been, I thought maybe- but if it’s not proper-”

Arya’s hand on his mouth made him stop mid-sentence. “I’d like that,” she replied shyly, and when he pried her hand away his smile was blinding.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll request it tomorrow when we’re ambushed.” 

He moved forward, leaning down for a kiss, but she laid a hand on his chest with a soft laugh. She definitely wouldn’t leave if he kept looking at her like that. “Behave,” she pointed a finger at him in mock scolding.

Amused, Gendry stepped back, holding both hands up. Arya leaned up and lightly pressed her lips to his, hurriedly moving back just as he would have wrapped his arms around her. Grinning, she fluttered her eyelashes and made her voice a notch higher. “Thank you ever so much for walking me back.”

“I’m nothing if not a gentlemen.” He winked and gave a little bow as Arya felt heat creep up her neck. _A gentleman, indeed._

Backing away, she paused at the door. “Goodnight, Prince Gendry,” she dipped in a small curtsy, holding out her dusty old cloak with a grin.

“Good night, m’lady.” 

Arya stuck her tongue out and slipped inside, hiding her cloak back where her mum wouldn’t look. Crawling under the covers, she curled up next to her sister, her memories eventually carrying her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unintentional courtship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry for the long wait between chapters! I didn't intend for that to happen, but of course life did not go as planned. Hopefully you guys are still with me and this super-long chapter will make up for it! :) really, I hope you enjoy.

Gendry had been right. The next morning, she’d barely started on her food when a court messenger arrived with a summons to the king’s chambers. She trailed a step behind her father, careful not to step on the hem of the new gown her mother had coerced her into just an hour earlier. The fabric clung to her sweaty skin as they made their way slowly through the corridors. 

When they entered the room, Arya’s eyes immediately flicked past the king and his guards, feeling her shoulders relax as she found Gendry standing off to the side. He allowed himself a small smile as he bowed, and then the king cleared his throat to draw their attention. As her father moved to stand with the king, Gendry crossed the room to stand by her side. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or instruction, but either way she was grateful for it. It was nice to feel like she had a partner in all this.

The king and her father proceeded to give them a brief version of the story Gendry had told her last night. Arya kept her eyes on her father as best she could. Though King Robert was his best friend, she had always felt odd around him and his constant stares. She and Gendry each murmured their agreement to the marriage, and she could practically see the tension ease out of her father’s posture. The king himself seemed surprise at their (well, her) lack of protest, but took it in stride. Then he made a crass joke about the grandkids he expected, and Arya closed her eyes for a moment, wiling herself to breathe normally. A light touch on her pinky finger made her crack open an eyelid to see Gendry’s pinky wrapped around hers, and for a moment she was back on the rooftop, breathing in the fresh air and his ever-present scent of leather and pine. 

It steadied her, reminded her that they would be far and away from the king and his court and all the things that came with it. Then Gendry spoke, his voice low.

“If I may request one thing, Your Grace.” Though his words were intended for the king, he was looking directly at her father. Arya didn’t have to wait long to wonder what he was thinking. When her father gave a small nod, Gendry swallowed and continued. “I would request that Lady Stark and I are given a few months before the wedding date is set. I think we would both appreciate the chance to get to know one another, as well as to visit our future home.”

Arya could have kissed him then and there, and she nearly did. But instead she only squeezed his pinky tightly, inching closer so that their shoulders brushed. The king was momentarily speechless, while her father was studying them both carefully. 

“The boy brings up a good point,” he said quietly. “There is no need to rush into the marriage, since they both have already agreed.”

“There had better be no change of heart in those few months,” King Robert warned.

“There won’t be,” Arya blurted out, her first words all morning. All three men looked at her. “I assure you, Your Grace, the marriage will take place.”

The king’s beady eyes locked on hers for several moments before he nodded, and a rush of air escaped her.

“Very well then. We will set a date three months from now.” Her father smiled as they both bowed low before escaping the room. As soon as they were out the door, Arya opened her mouth only to find a finger at her lips. 

“Not here,” Gendry murmured, and she nodded hastily, walking beside him down the hall. Finding a spare room, they slipped inside and bolted the door. Gendry immediately went to check the windows and spare room before finally turning back to her.

“I hope you didn’t mind-” he began, only to cut off with a laugh as she hugged him gratefully. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet for a few moments before setting her back down. “I only thought of it this morning. Thought it was worth a try.”

“Thank you.”

Gendry raised an eyebrow. “Wow, did Arya Stark just _thank_ me?”

She hit his shoulder (though it may as well have been a damn rock). “Don’t get used to it.”

He only grinned, leaning down to steal a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The remaining days in King’s Landing were a whirlwind. Their engagement was announced with pomp and circumstance that evening before supper in the Great Hall, and only Gendry’s tight grip on her hand kept her from knocking out the guards and making a run for it. It helped that he seemed to hate it as much as she did. Arya was relieved to find someone else who saw the grand gestures for what they were - a big show, in which they were currently the starring act. Both of them were averse to spotlight, and so every night Arya found herself back on the hidden balcony with Gendry, basking in the peaceful silence. 

Sometimes they chatted quietly, trading stories about their childhoods. She made him laugh with tales of hiding and playing in Winterfell with her brothers, and in turn he told her about wandering the streets with Hot Pie. He spoke reverently of the forge and his Master Tobho, who’d taught him everything he knew about smithing. It was plain to her that he missed the anonymity, along with the normalcy of hard work.

Many times, she found they were both content to sit silently, simply glad to not be constantly guarding their expressions or words against yet another courtier. Keeping up appearances was exhausting.

On her last night, they didn’t speak much at all. Only very late, when the sky was an inky black blanket stretching over the castle in the deep night, did Gendry break the silence.

“You know, I’m going to miss you.” Though his voice remained light, Arya heard what he wasn’t saying. It was rare to find a true friend in all the chaos, and even scarier to have to let go - intended for marriage or not. She was having similar thoughts. 

Tugging on his shirt collar, she waited until he looked down. “You’ll be visiting soon, right? Or do I have to drag you back with us?”

Gendry chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips and placing slow kisses over her knuckles before finally answering. “You’ll hear from me within the month.”

“I had better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not long after they returned to Winterfell, Sansa left for Highgarden, promising to visit again for the wedding. To Arya’s dismay, Jon was still at The Wall, and would be for longer than expected. It was during these days that she missed Gendry more than anything. Though she still managed to escape now and then to play with Nymeria or simply hide out, she had greatly underestimated how much of a difference it had made to have someone on her side. For a few days after arriving, Arya found herself looking around to share her eyeroll or inward groan with Gendry, only to be met with serious, questioning looks as she belatedly remembered where she was. During their days at court, they’d started creating nicknames to help them remember the countless the lords and ladies they met. It was their own inside joke, as was much of what went on during the feasts and brunches. Now, Arya felt like she’d lost her partner in crime.

She kept herself busy by training. Despite her mother’s best efforts to prevent it, she found time to sneak out to the practice yards with Needle. Alone or not, she would not let her skills become rusty. Jon and Syrio had taught her better than that. Absently, she wondered whether Storm’s End had a training yard - and whether she’d be sneaking out there, as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, _finally,_ as the month came to a close, her father announced - all too casually - that a raven had arrived. Arya couldn’t help it when her head snapped up, eagerly awaiting him to continue speaking. He noticed, _of course_ he did, and chewed his breakfast slowly, precisely, until she nearly stabbed her fork into the table. With a smirk, he explained that Prince Gendry would be visiting in the next week, if they were unopposed to it, with a small group of his most trusted men.

Arya looked back at her food, biting her lip to stop the smile that threatened to overtake her face. Determinedly, she took a bite of whatever was on her plate, letting Bran and Rickon distract her.

Days later, she’d managed to sneak onto the muddy yard after a recent rainfall and was hacking at the practice post when she heard the guard horns blare, signalling visitors. Slipping and sliding, Arya ran up to her room, praying she wouldn’t run into her mother on the way. The gods were with her, and she managed to slip out of her tunic and breeches and scrub off the dirt before pulling on a simple gray dress. She kept her boots. Hurriedly threading her fingers through her hair, Arya bounded down the steps and around the corner, nearly crashing into her parents.

“In a rush, are we?” Her cheeks burned at her father’s teasing grin, but before she could reply, her mother interrupted.

“Arya, is _that_ what you’re wearing to receive the prince?”

Arya scowled. “Please. This is how I’ve dressed at home my whole life. He should know what he’s getting into.” 

She brushed past them and down the steps, grinning as she heard her father’s muffled laughter behind her. She had just stepped into the front yard when Gendry rode in, surrounded by five men. His cheeky grin was plain even from a distance, despite (or rather, because of) his mud-splattered tunic and face. As soon as he was near enough, he tumbled off his horse gratefully, striding towards her. She nodded her head to the side, where her parents were making their way down, and he remembered just in time to stop and bow.

“M’lady.” 

Arya crossed her arms but grinned back briefly before curtsying. “Prince Gendry. Took a tumble in the mud, did you, ser?”

“I could say the same for you.” He leaned closer, his fingers gently brushing her neck. “You missed a spot.”

Arya’s hand came up to check, sticking out her tongue when she felt the grime that still stuck to her skin. Gendry chuckled, his fingers lingering a moment too long. “I’ve certainly missed you,” he breathed.

Before she could reply, her father called out behind them, and Gendry dropped his hand. After greetings were exchanged, her mother ushered him and his men inside, beginning to direct them to their chambers. Pointedly, she raised an eyebrow at Arya, who looked back in confusion before belatedly stuttering that she could show Gendry where he’d be staying.

Gendry’s head was swiveling in nearly every direction, seemingly trying to take in the whole place at once. But his eyes kept drifting back to Arya, who did her best to stay focused until they found his room. She remained in the doorway as he looked around, unsure of whether to leave him be or not. When he turned to see her standing at the entrance, he smiled, soft and sweet. Crossing the room, Gendry gently shifted her aside before closing the door.

Then he’d lifted her off the floor in a crushing hug, laughing warmly in her ear when she squeaked in surprise. Arya wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tucking her face into the crook of his neck with a sigh.

His breath tickled her ear when he spoke again. “So I guess you missed me too, huh?” 

“Maybe.”

Gendry loosened his grip, letting her slide to the ground, but he kept his arms around her. “Maybe a little or maybe a lot?” He asked with a grin.

In answer, Arya yanked at his heavy overcoat, leaning up on her tip-toes until their lips collided. The kiss was familiar and honest, and she felt herself relax even further against him. Only when she heard the scratching at the door did she pull away.

“What?” Gendry ducked his head, trying to recapture her lips.

Arya grinned and put a hand over his mouth, only to have him kiss her palm. “Hold on. I hear something.” She stepped around him to the door, unlatching it carefully and peeking out. Nymeria stood eagerly outside, tail wagging.

“Nymeria! You found me, good girl.” Arya held the door open until her wolf trotted in, turning back to Gendry, who was looking at her friend rather nervously.

“Nymeria, this is Gendry. Gendry, meet Nymeria.”

Her wolf’s nose was in the air, taking in the new scent in the room. Slowly, Nymeria approached Gendry, who was standing very still. Arya watched in amusement as her friend circled him carefully, now and then butting her nose against him to sniff his clothing. Gendry chuckled after the third time she did so, putting out his hand. Nymeria burrowed her nose into his palm as she settled on her haunches, content. Gendry’s hand brushed across the fur on her head and down her neck, before coming to scratch behind her ear.

“She’s beautiful,” he said quietly, and Arya smiled. For a few moments, she watched as her two friends got acquainted, laughing when Nymeria licked his face immediately after he knelt down. 

When she heard footsteps in the neighboring halls, Arya knew the castle was preparing to welcome the prince at dinner. 

“Nymeria, to me.” Her wolf looked at her for a moment, as if to say _really?_ Arya cocked an eyebrow, and Nymeria let out something between a bark and a huff before trotting over to her. “We’ll have to get changed for dinner,” she explained to Gendry. 

He nodded, standing. “Sorry about your dress.”

Arya looked down, realizing her gray frock was covered in the mudstains from his overcoat. “I think it’s a vast improvement, don’t you?” She grinned cheekily before slipping out the door, Nymeria at her heels.

She could still hear him laughing down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dinner was only a bit more grand than usual. Arya had convinced her parents not to overdo the welcome, constantly reassuring them that Gendry would not be offended by it. And he did appear rather relieved when he walked into the main hall, seeing only a moderate setup of tables. As more people began to tumble in, Arya pointed out the faces she recognized, most of whom she’d known since childhood. 

They all took a turn greeting him politely, if warily at first. “I feel rather like I’m being sized up for target practice,” Gendry whispered at one point.

“They’re just careful with outsiders.”

“Can’t say I blame them.”

Once the feast truly got started, though, most of the decorum went out the window. Arya saw her mother looking over in concern more than once before relaxing when she saw Gendry happily chatting with one of the villagers. Eavesdropping, Arya realized he was talking with the blacksmith. No wonder he was so chatty. When they shook hands and he turned back to her, it was with a delighted grin.

“Let me guess,” she drawled. “You’ve charmed him into borrowing the forge?”

Gendry chuckled. “Only for a few hours. I saw it on the way in.”

“Well, you might want to let father know, so he doesn’t have a heart attack when you show up covered head to toe in soot.” 

“Noted.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she guessed, only a day had passed when she searched the castle and couldn’t find Gendry. So she found her old breeches and tunic and stole some lemon cakes from the kitchen before walking down to the forge. As she neared, the steady ring of hammer on steel became even louder.

It was blazing hot inside, as if the air within the walls was somehow constantly sealed in to ensure the temperature remained high. The heat was a bit stuffy at first, but not overbearing. Arya meant to call out but stopped herself when she realized the smith’s back was to her. But the broad form wasn’t that of the village smith. It was Gendry, his arm raising up and down with the large hammer as if it was a toy, or simply an extension of his arm. So instead of disturbing him, she only crossed to the bench on the opposite wall, curling up and watching curiously.

He wore thick black trousers and the smith’s apron, his skin already covered in sweat and soot. His black hair fell over his eyes as he swung the hammer in a practiced motion, and soon Arya noticed the large bulk of steel in front of him beginning to take shape in the form of a chest plate. 

She was watching so closely that when he stopped hammering, it took her mind a moment to catch up. Gendry was studying her intently, but not unkindly, when she met his gaze. 

“Hi.” She grinned and held up her bag. “I brought lemon cakes. I take it you’re enjoying yourself?”

He smiled back, wiping the sweat from his brow before removing the heavy apron, and she nearly dropped all the cakes. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a man shirtless before. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was _Gendry_. In her curiosity, she’d somehow missed that he wasn’t wearing a stitch over his torso, and now her eyes raked over the defined planes of his chest, the sweep of his shoulders, and the curve of his spine as he moved around the forge. 

Heat bloomed low in her belly, and the flush that was quickly rising in her face wasn’t out of embarrassment but pure want. It was exhilarating and nervewracking all at once.

Gendry finished cleaning up, coming to sit on the bench with a thump as she tried to control her expression. Wordlessly, she handed him the bag of lemon cakes, grinning absently when he pulled out not one but three. After licking the crumbs off his fingers, he tapped her knee.

“How’d you get past your mum in these breeches?”

Arya shrugged. “I know when she’s stuck greeting visitors.”

“Clever. So where were these in King’s Landing?”

“She wouldn’t let me bring them,” she replied sullenly, shoving him when he laughed. As a warning, she added, “I’m not getting rid of them.”

“Well I would hope so,” he replied. “How else are we going to explore all those cliffs?”

Arya smiled, taking a bite of her own cake. “How long do you plan to stay at Winterfell?”

“At least a week, maybe a few days more, if that’s alright. I like it here. And then … ,” Gendry glanced at her sidelong. “ I was thinking we could travel to Storm’s End.”

She sat up eagerly. “Really?”

He grinned. “If your father is willing to be our guide, we could make the trip in about two weeks, with a few extra men.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. It would certainly put mum at ease if he came with us.” Arya was thrilled at the thought of a new adventure. “We can ask him tonight, if you like.” 

Gendry leaned back against the wall, his shoulder brushing hers. The waning fire cast flickering shadows over his face as his eyes roamed over her. Arya looked back, unable to decipher his new expression. 

“Trying to decide if you prefer a dress over my breeches?” She teased, a bit weakly. 

“I think I prefer the breeches.” His voice came out hoarse, and she didn’t understand why until his mouth covered hers hotly, his tongue sweeping over her lips. Arya fumbled at his shoulders, her surprised gasp allowing his tongue entry into her mouth, and suddenly it was like catching fire. His hands pulled her against him roughly, with an eagerness that felt somehow different than previous times. She followed willingly, clambering onto his lap to get as close as possible. Without the folds of a skirt in the way, Arya found herself straddling him easily. There was no time to feel embarrassed or wanton because his hands had slipped under her tunic to stroke the skin at her hips, and _gods_ , everything felt good. Her own fingers traveled over the taut muscles of his shoulders and back, tracing the lines of his body while they kissed with equal fervor.

When Gendry pulled his lips from hers with a ragged breath, she protested and nipped his bottom lip in punishment. He gave in with a groan, surrendering to her heated kiss once more before slowly coaxing it into something more soft. 

The next time he pulled away, both of them were in dire need of oxygen. Arya rested her forehead against his with a sheepish chuckle, feeling his chest rumble against hers as he laughed. His hand was splayed on her back, rising and falling in time with her heavy breaths. 

“So.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “That was new.”

Gendry hummed in agreement, drawing her bottom lip in with his teeth and making her limbs feel wobbly. She sighed when he let go. “Not fair.”

A knock at the forge door startled them both, and Arya scrambled off his lap and into the back room while he threw the apron back on. Moments later, she heard their regular smith, Ronan, enter and begin chatting with Gendry. She rolled her eyes but grinned as she heard Gendry respond with equal enthusiasm, and decided to slip out the back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn’t see him again until after dinner that night, when he managed to draw her aside. “Where’d you go today?” He asked with a pout, and she nearly giggled.

“I escaped out the back! Did you expect me to walk right out there and say hello to Ronan?”

“Well, no…” He still looked miffed, and Arya chuckled.

“You seemed quite involved in your conversation,” she explained. “I thought you’d be busy for a while.”

“Well I had to distract him somehow before he realized just how … excited I was, apron or no apron.” 

Arya burst into laughter just as her father rounded the corner. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply watching them. Gendry failed to hold back his grin, but he bowed nonetheless.

“Lord Stark. We were hoping to have a word with you-”

“Oh, please.” Arya swatted his shoulder. “Stop being so formal. Dad, would you like to take us to Storm’s End or shall I let Gendry kidnap me in the night?”

 _”Arya!”_

Gendry sounded so scandalized that she nearly doubled over in laughter again, but held it in only because her father was doing the same. He stroked his short beard in mock thought, scrunching his face until his eyes were nearly closed.

“Well, the kidnapping certainly has a ring to it. But you know you’d have to bind her hands and feet properly, or she’d get loose. And we can’t have a wild Arya on the run. Plus, there’d be the matter of the entirety of Winterfell out to have your head…” 

Gendry had been amused at first, but now he was beginning to look a bit pale. 

“Daaaad,” Arya bounced on her feet, and her father broke the facade, grinning widely. 

“I would be honored to take you to Storm’s End,” he said solemnly, and Arya gave him a big hug before stepping back to let him shake hands with Gendry.

Later, she rapped on Gendry’s door briefly, holding a small package. His hair was still damp from the bath, and he had on only a loose tunic and trousers. The sight was oddly comforting.

“Hey there.”

“Hi. Could you do me a favor?” She gestured to her bundle.

“Of course.”

“Hide these in your pack?”

Gendry took the small bundle from her with a bemused grin. “Sure. Am I allowed to know what I’m hiding?”

“My breeches.” Arya grinned at his loud snort of laughter. “Mum’s going to insist on packing my things, and if it’s anything like last time, these will never get by her.”

“They’ll be safe with me,” he promised. Then he peeked past her into the hall before asking hesitantly, “Would it be wrong to ask you to stay for a while?”

Arya was surprised, but pleased - more than she cared to admit. “Probably.” He nodded, resigned, and she stepped closer with a small grin. “So I’d love to.” 

His face lit up as she stepped past him, and he was still beaming when he shut the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya turned up the hood of her cloak against the wind, pressing her face against Gendry’s back. He shifted in the saddle, twisting his head to talk to her. “You alright?” 

“Fine,” she called, then realized he hadn’t heard her. So she looked up and nodded before turning her face back against his coat and tightening her grip around his waist. 

They’d been riding for four days, and until now hadn’t encountered any rough weather. But since this morning the winds had picked up, and now the clouds seemed heavier and darker than before. Both his men and the few her father had picked to accompany them from Winterfell were huddled in their saddles, cloaks turned up in expectation of rain.

“I wonder if Storm’s End takes it’s name a bit too literally,” she commented. Gendry stiffened unexpectedly, instead of laughing like she had expected.

“I certainly hope not,” he said after a moment. “I’m afraid I’m quite helpless when it comes to storms.” 

Well, that was interesting. “I’ll protect you,” Arya replied, and though she’d meant it as a joke, she found it came out quite serious. She wasn’t even sure he’d heard, but then he placed his hand over hers for a minute, and she knew he had. 

The rest of their party was silent, everyone focused on trudging through before the weather worsened. Early on, Arya had discovered that Gendry was not a fan of horses, or riding - a fact that provided her endless amusement. His men seemed to know it as well. They were a quiet bunch, though she thought maybe that was more out of deference to her than anything else. She hoped they’d get over that eventually.

Shifting, she looked around for Nymeria. Her wolf was traveling with them, at her stubborn request (that Gendry had thankfully supported), but stayed mostly off the road, keeping to the woods that accompanied their path. Arya gladly noted that her friend was off to the side and not in the face of the wind. The trees continued to thin as they crept south over the next couple of days, making her long for the sturdy, lush forests of the north. 

It was on the eighth day, when her mood had considerably dampened, that Gendry began pointing out the mountains they could see in the distance, and the tangy smell in the air - the water of Shipbreaker’s Bay. When he launched into a story, Arya found herself fascinated as he told her of how the first of the Storm Kings built his castle over and over until finally, the seventh one withstood everything - see, wind, manpower, and even, it was said, the wrath of the gods themselves. The castle itself stood out from far away, he said, like a fist poised to strike. There would be no mistaking it. Her father chimed in to tell her it was indeed a sight to see, and one that he’d never forgotten.

The next day she asked Gendry where he’d heard the tales, and he remarked that after he learned of his parentage, he’d searched out any information he could about their lands. Storm’s End was one of the most prominently featured places in all the books. That got him talking about the library he’d found in King’s Landing - endless pages of stories featuring people from every walk of life. Some were true, and others weren’t, but all were captivating.

Arya had settled against him by the time he finished another story, this one about Griffin’s Roost, and though she still missed the forest, she was more excited by what new adventures lay ahead. A place steeped in such history certainly couldn’t be all boring.

They continued to travel until, on a cloudy afternoon two days later, the castle appeared in the distance just as Gendry had said it would - like a raised fist ready to strike the sky. Arya’s breath caught at the sight of the towering stone, and Gendry’s low whistle only confirmed that she wasn’t the only one impressed. Her father was grinning at their reactions, clearly pleased. 

“It looks more like a fortress,” she commented.

“I think that’s the point,” he replied, still in awe. “I mean who would want to attack _that?”_

“Only someone very stupid, I’d imagine.”

Gendry chuckled and urged their horse to a trot. As they day wore on, though, she felt him become more and more tense, to the point that she may as well have been holding onto a stiff board. Her questioning pokes were only met with a weak smile in return, but Arya was stubborn. When they stopped in the evening to give the horses a rest, she marched up to Gendry, who stood apart from the group, gazing at the castle. Stopping directly in front of him, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot until he glared at her.

“What?”

“You’re not telling me something. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, about to turn away. 

Arya curled one hand into his coat collar, the other coming up to gently rest against his cheek. “Gendry, please. It’s me.”

He took a deep breath, his own hand coming up to cover hers. His worried gaze wandered back to the castle before finally coming to rest on her face. 

“What if they hate me?”

She stared at him in surprise. “What?”

Gendry was more nervous than she could remember him ever being. “What if the people here don’t like me? I mean, who would want their land ruled by a bastard? Who even wants to hear what I have to say? I don’t know the first thing about all this.”

His panicked voice rose as the words rushed out of him, and the others turned around but didn’t move. Arya tightened her grip on him and pulled him close, uncaring of who could see. He didn’t resist when she brought his forehead down to hers, brushing her nose against his once.

“Listen to me,” she began quietly. “You may be a Baratheon, but you are most certainly _not_ like your father, nor, I suspect, like your uncles. You are Gendry, and if you treat these people even half as kindly as you’ve treated me, they will have no choice but to love you.”

“And if they still don’t?”

She gave him her best wolfish grin. “Then they’ll answer to me and Nymeria.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile before Gendry closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her hands before enfolding her in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Arya held him tightly until finally his hold loosened and she stepped back, straightening his collar firmly. When they turned to head back to the group, she stopped abruptly in astonishment. 

His men had dropped onto one knee, their heads bowed. As she gaped, she vaguely noted her father’s proud expression in the corner of her vision. At a loss for words, she looked at Gendry, who was surveying them with a similarly satisfied, if amused, expression. Then one of the men - Amon, she remembered - spoke in a low tone.

“We are honored to serve as your guard, Lady Arya, as long as you would have us.”

Arya was still speechless, leaving Gendry to move forward with a tap to their shoulders. “Come on, lads, none of that. Up you go. You know m’lady doesn’t like theatrics.” He winked, motioning her back to their horse, and soon they were on their way again, though with considerably more chatter than before, and Arya knew for certain that something had changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Storm’s End was just as massive from the inside. Arya couldn’t help but stare in every direction, seeing a new adventure everywhere she looked. That didn’t mean she missed the stares and murmurs directed at her and Gendry, but she let the landscape distract her, hoping Gendry was doing the same. Their small group moved swiftly, soon finding themselves at the entrance to the large courtyard, where an older man with salt-and-pepper colored hair stood to greet them.

He wore a simple black traveling robe over his equally demure tunic and trousers, his face worn but not unkind. His simple manner made Arya decide she liked him already.

“That’s not your uncle, is it?” She whispered.

Gendry shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

Arya hid her grin as he got down from the horse, turning to lift her off as well. When her feet were on solid ground, she felt him grasp her fingers tightly. “Don’t let go,” he muttered, and she squeezed back reassuringly.

Her father strode forward first, the easy smile on his face making her relax also. He greeted the man with a vigorous handshake before stepping back to introduce them. “I’d like to present Gendry of House Baratheon, and my daughter, Arya of House Stark.”

Gendry bowed as Arya dipped into a curtsy, their hands still joined. When she looked up, the older man had crinkles by his eyes as he smiled, stepping closer.

“I am honored to welcome you both,” he said, first grasping Gendry’s hand and then Arya’s. “My name is Davos Seaworth.”

“Davos,” Gendry said the name as if remembering something important. “You’re second in command to Lord Stannis?”

“That’s correct, young ser.” Davos’ face clouded momentarily. “Though, I’m afraid your uncle could not be here to welcome you. He was called north suddenly to deal with matters at Dragonstone. He sends his apologies.”

“Does he?” Gendry’s question was quiet, but sharp.

The elder man looked at him carefully before setting a hand on his shoulder. “He should. He’s missing out.”

Gendry nodded, smiling briefly in thanks for his honesty. Then Davos turned to her. “I was most pleased to learn that you were accompanying him, Lady-”

“Please.” She waved a hand tiredly. “Just Arya.”

Davos chuckled, bowing his head to acknowledge he understood. “Very well, then. May I at least call you Miss Arya?”

She gave him a wry smile. “If you must.”

Her father came to stand next to Gendry as Davos let out a hearty laugh. “I think you two will do just fine here.”

He ushered them inside, promising them a full tour once they had a chance to bathe and change before dinner. In their short walk to the rooms, Arya found him to be a wealth of knowledge. Davos answered their many questions with endless patience until finally her father cut in, pointedly reminding them they had several days to interrogate him to their heart’s content, once they were not covered in grime.

“You sound like mum,” she huffed, but retired to her quarters anyways, hearing mixed laughter behind her. To her surprise, two of Gendry’s men stood outside her doorway when she poked her head back out. Instead of sending them off like she always did to others, though, Arya instead decided to put them to use.

“If any of the maids or septons come by, feel free to to look as menacing as you’d like,” she suggested, pleased when she saw Amon crack a smile before she closed the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Davos game them a tour, as promised, continuing to field their questions. Arya found herself curious in the castle’s military-like appearance and build, while Gendry seemed to want to mine Davos for everything he knew about the daily operations. After yet another question about incoming supplies, Davos finally made his own inquiry.

“May I ask, what do you hope to gain from these inquiries?”

Gendry grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s all a bit much at once, isn’t it?”

But Davos shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I rather enjoy talking about it. Storm’s End has become a second home to me.” 

“I suppose I just want to know as much as I can, to find out where I could be of most use,” Gendry replied after a moment. “I don’t want to ruin something that’s working smoothly, but I can’t know that unless, well, somebody tells me.”

The older man was nodding in agreement. “In that case, you can count on me to be brutally honest,” he grinned, getting a laugh out of Arya.

“How long do you intend to stay here, Ser Davos?” She asked.

“I go wherever Lord Stannis requires me to go,” he said in reply, and she heard the unerring loyalty in his voice. “However, at the moment it seems he’s content to leave me here, to oversee your transition and ensure that-”

“I don’t screw it up?” Gendry finished with a cheeky grin.

“More or less.” 

Arya bumped Gendry’s shoulder slyly. “We make no promises.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t storm that night, but the rain fell hard, drumming over the rooftops and collecting in puddles on the streets. To their immense relief, it stopped any preparation of a large welcome, instead giving them the space they had hoped for. 

In the following days, Arya found herself immersed in wandering the castle and surrounding land, her curiosity overtaking everything else. But her exploring was also beginning to serve a larger purpose. Ever since she’d listened to Gendry’s stories about the sieges and failed attacks on Storm’s End, she wanted to know just _how_ the fortress had been built to last. Even in her tutoring sessions back at Winterfell, she had always found the battles to be the most interesting parts. 

One day, she mentioned as much to Davos, who suggested taking a look in the library. Though Arya had wrinkled her nose at the thought of more books, she didn’t want to be rude, so she tentatively agreed. Still, her first instinct was always to _do_ rather than think. As if he knew her hesitation, he promised to take her out to one of the many practice yards at a later time. Then he happily directed her to one of the inner chambers of the castle. 

At first, Arya wondered why he’d been so gleeful to send her on her way. Only when she saw a large form huddled among a stack of books and maps did she laugh in surprise.

Gendry looked up, his gaze transforming from startled to delighted within seconds. “Fancy meeting you here,” he grinned as she plopped down across from him.

“Is this Davos’ doing?”

“Actually, I asked and he was more than happy to show me the way.”

“Of course you did. What are you reading?” 

“Supply and stocking. You?”

Arya held up the two books in her hand. “Battle strategy.”

“That sounds far more interesting. Trade?”

“Not a chance.” She grinned and leaned back against a shelf, settling in. Some time later, she grudgingly admitted that Davos had been right. The books were filled with knowledge, giving her a base from which to form opinions. There were countless stories of battles won and lost, wars waged, and sieges outlasted. Nearly all outlined a different scheme, and Arya found she agreed with some but heartily disagreed with others, beginning to see just how much thought had to go into battle. 

Only when the familiar scent of coffee reached her nostrils did she look up. Davos was standing in front of them with a small grin and a tray in his hands.

“Coffee?”

“You’ve tried it, then?” He sat with a small groan before pouring out three mugs of the dark liquid while she grinned at Gendry. They chatted quietly for awhile until her father found them, and Arya muffled a giggle as Gendry began to pepper her father with questions. 

Halfway through, he seemed to catch himself, stopping abruptly and rubbing his neck with a sheepish grin. Her father only chuckled, clapping him on the back and then suggesting they take a walk. He preferred to show by example, he said, and Gendry hurried to follow as Arya looked on with a smile. Then Davos began to quiz her on her readings, and she found herself eagerly involved in discussion - and arguments - with him for the next few hours. 

As promised, he took her out to the training yard - only after she had stopped at her room to swap her dress for breeches and grab Needle, to his great amusement. Arya purposely told him not to introduce her, wanting to see the initial reaction at a woman in the practice yard. Two of Gendry’s men - Lucas and Will - insisted on accompanying them, but she had them promise not to intervene unless she asked. She would fight her own battles.

A few men initially scoffed at her presence, though not as many as she expected. Many more, thankfully, noted Davos standing off to the side and realized this might be some sort of test. So they were observant; that was good. She practically felt Gendry’s men tense behind her when one idiot decided to make a sly comment. Moments later, she’d swept his feet from under him with a low kick, with Needle out and at his throat while he squirmed on the ground, suddenly nervous.

“What’s your name?”

“Garrett.”

“That wasn’t quite fair, was it, Ser Garrett?” she mused quietly. “Alright. I suppose that only happened because I surprised you, yes? Very well then, up you go. Get your sword and let’s see what you’ve got.”

Though annoyed, he stood and shook off his surprise, taking his sword and eagerly advancing. Arya grinned, feeling the blood rush through her veins as she took up her stance. _This_ she knew how to do; this, she thrived on. Their blades clashed, and she saw the other man’s face change when he realized she wasn’t just playing, that she was properly trained and knew how to handle a blade. They parried back and forth, attacking and falling back, testing each other until a startled yell rang out in the yard.

Arya turned to see her father standing next to a very amused Gendry. The soldier behind her let out a low moan as he saw the two men, quickly putting two and two together. His sword thunked against the grass as he fell to his knees, murmuring his apology. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at her father. “Now why’d you have to go and do that?” 

Turning, she tapped Garrett’s shoulder with her sword. “I liked you much better a moment ago, ser. Please get up.” Looking around, she eyed all the other men sharply. “I don’t want to see any of you on the ground unless it’s because I’ve beat you fair and square, understand?”

Affirmative murmurs ran through the crowd as they nodded, many amused and others simply curious. She was about to leave when she realized she hadn’t introduced herself. With a grin, she dipped a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you all, I’m sure. I’m Arya.” 

With that, she practically skipped back to Gendry, who was openly laughing in admiration. Her father had gone to speak to Davos, who appeared to be fighting his own smile.

“That was fun,” she said breathlessly.

Gendry tucked a stray hair behind her ear before throwing his arm about her shoulder as they started back to the castle. His breath was warm on her ear when he leaned down to whisper, “You know, I think I might be a little bit in love with you.” 

Arya flushed, about to retort for teasing her when she got a look at his face. He was smiling still, but the mirth had turned to something much more tender, and the way he was looking at her brought a lump to her throat, blocking whatever words she had left. She didn’t know the first thing about love, but she did know Gendry, and he wouldn’t carelessly toss the word around unless he meant it. 

His thumb brushed along her bottom lip, bringing her out of her thoughts. Now he was looking at her in concern, and Arya realized she’d been quiet too long. Pushing up on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his softly, feeling him respond with a sigh.

When she finally pulled back, she found herself still without the right words. Gendry saw the frustration on her face, placing his index finger against her lips. “It’s okay,” he said. “I know.” 

Arya smiled weakly, letting him pull her back to the castle until they reached her room. Once inside, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. This time when he leaned down, she could practically feel his teasing grin. 

“It’s not fair that everyone gets to practice with you and I don’t,” he murmured, brushing his lips down her neck. 

She arched her neck automatically, her head falling back against his shoulder. “Whose fault is that?” The words came out breathier than she’d have liked, but it was hard to care.

His soft chuckle vibrated against her skin. “Will I have to start requesting private sessions?” His mouth continued down her neck, lightly nudging aside the cloth of her tunic.

“Fine,” she gasped. “We’ll start now.” Somehow, she managed to turn in his grip, dragging his mouth down to hers. There was silence for a few minutes while they kissed, and then Gendry pulled back suddenly. 

Arya protested, trying to bring him back until she heard the footsteps in the hall. They both waited as the steps got louder, then sighed in relief as they passed right by her door, fading in the distance. 

Gendry looked back at her with a crooked grin. “If anyone catches me in here, it’ll reach your father within the hour.” 

“Then don’t get caught,” she demanded, and he laughed.

“As m’lady commands.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding bells :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all who are still reading. I apologize for the incredibly long time it's taken for me to update. I hope this huge chapter is worth the wait!

The letter arrived during their stay at Storm’s End. The messenger found them sitting among the library bookshelves, chatting with Davos and her father after dinner. Davos thanked the man and directed him to the kitchens for a warm meal before returning to his seat. Arya looked over, seeing that the message bore the official seal of House Baratheon. Gendry’s eyes darted back and forth between the letter and his own book. He was both curious and apprehensive all at once. Impulsively, Arya leaned over and placed her hand over top his.

Her father was eyeing the parchment quietly as Davos scanned over it. When he lifted his eyes, his gaze was weary.

“It appears,” Davos said, “that Prince Joffrey is engaged.” 

Gendry stiffened immediately, but managed to keep his face blank. It saddened Arya that he was so used to masking his thoughts. She decided to remind him at every opportunity that that wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

Her father reached for the letter. “May I?” 

“Of course.” Davos handed it over, his eyes still on Gendry. 

“When is the wedding?” Gendry’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

It was her father who answered. “At the end of the next month.” 

Arya looked at him in surprise. That couldn’t be right - that was the date of _her_ wedding. She was opening her mouth to tell him so, when Gendry let out a short, bitter laugh. 

“Of course it is. Guess nobody wants to see the bastard get married, right?” 

Arya’s heart clenched at the venom and hurt in his voice, but before she could do anything, he abruptly stood up and excused himself. His shoulders were hunched as he strode away, head down and fists clenched. When she would have gone after him, her father laid a firm hand on her arm.

“Give him some time,” he advised gently.

She sat back with a thump, resting her head against the shelf. One of the things she hated most was feeling useless, and right now that was all she could feel. Her father knew, as he always did, and moved to sit next to her, pulling her close. 

“So they’re holding Joffrey’s wedding and acting as if Gendry doesn’t even exist.” Even though she would have hated such a huge public display, she was still enraged for Gendry. Had he ever been treated properly? Loved properly? 

“The king will likely send another letter for the two of you,” Davos said apologetically. 

When she didn’t reply after a few minutes, he softy excused himself. Arya’s mind drifted as she sat in silence. Eventually, she found all her thoughts circling back to one idea. It had seemed a silly whim when it occured to her on the road, but here and now, it suddenly became a very real possibility. 

Arya lifted her head to look at her father. “I was thinking…” 

He grinned. “I was so hoping you would say that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, Arya decided Gendry had had enough time to himself. Plus, she was eager to propose her idea. So she walked swiftly to his chambers, only to pause at the sight of Lucas, Amon, and Thomas outside his door. Greeting them with a brief smile, she wondered if they would block her entrance. Each nodded in response, before deferring to Amon, who studied her carefully.

“Please,” Arya said. “I don’t mean to upset him further. I just … I’d like to see him.”

His face cleared. “I know,” he murmured, and stepped aside.

Gratefully, she knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. In confusion, she looked at the others, but they had averted their gazes already. Cautiously, Arya opened the door a few inches, peeking inside. 

The room was dark except for the light of the half-moon that spilled in from the balcony. Gendry was sprawled on the bed, still fully clothed. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and he snored softly, finally at peace. Arya rested her head against the doorway for a moment longer, simply watching him. She didn’t bother trying to hide her wide grin. 

When footsteps sounded in the hall, she slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. Gendry didn’t stir. So she left her boots on the floor and eased onto the bed next to him, smoothing his hair when he shifted in his sleep. It was strange, she mused, how familiar the action was to her, even though she’d never been intimate with someone before. And yet it seemed only natural now, to brush his hair back, follow the lines of his cheekbones, trace the hollow of his collarbone. 

She lost track of how long she sat there. Only when the crick in her neck began to protest her position did she slide down next to his sleeping form, deciding she could sneak back to her rooms in the morning. Sometime in the night, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close into his body, and she didn’t resist. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was still dark when her eyes next opened. Arya was curled under the blanket, her back flush against Gendry’s chest. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. She was completely enfolded in his arms, his hand splayed on her stomach and one of her legs wedged between both of his. It felt wonderful.

She didn’t want to move, not for a long time, but the last thing she needed was for a maid or septon to walk into her room and find an empty bed. So she turned - or rather, tried to and failed, because Gendry only murmured a protest and tightened his grip. A small laugh bubbled past her lips, and she twisted her head to press kisses to his jaw.

As she’d hoped, he began to wake, his eyes opening drowsily. What she hadn’t counted on was his sudden movement. In one swift motion, he’d rolled on top of her, warmly crushing their lips together.

 _Oh_. Well, gods, this was distracting.

Arya couldn’t help it when she twined her arms around his neck, gladly parting her lips. His hands were everywhere at once, roaming her body with a fervor that surprised her and made her want more, _more._ He bit down on her bottom lip and she strained under him, wanting to feel the whole of his body against hers. He complied with her unspoken demand, lowering until their bodies touched at nearly every point. Heat pooled between her legs. His elbows rested by her head as he nibbled a lazy path down her neck, and Arya heard her own voice, breathy and hardly recognizable, sighing his name. 

Just as suddenly as they’d started, Gendry’s movements stilled, and his head lifted to look at her. “Arya?” His voice was rough with sleep, and it sent further bolts of heat shooting through her body.

“Of course it’s me! Who’d you think you were kissing?” 

He rolled off her instantly, his face shocked as he raked a hand through his hair. “Gods. I thought I was dreaming.” 

“At least tell me it was a good dream.” Arya crossed her arms, still irritated as she stared at the ceiling, trying to get her breath back. “You know, you can’t just start something like that and then _stop._ It’s not very nice.” 

There was only a second of silence before Gendry began to laugh, his whole body shaking with the force of it, and a moment later Arya joined in despite herself. Even after his laugh faded, his smile didn’t. He grazed a knuckle along her jaw in slight wonder. 

“Are you really here?” She kissed his fingertips and nodded. “Why?” He wanted to know.

“You were upset,” Arya started to explain. “By the time I found you, you were fast asleep. But I didn’t want to leave.” She ended with a sheepish smile, and Gendry kissed her softly, lingering. Then she said,“I have to go soon, before everyone wakes. But first I want to propose something, if you’ll listen.” 

Gendry shifted to face her, his gaze curious. Arya took a deep breath before launching in.

“I know King’s Landing is your home, as Winterfell is mine. But in the time we’ve spent here, I could see this becoming a new sort of home. So, since we’re going to be making a life here, why not start with the wedding?” Arya paused, chewing her lip. He only stared back at her. A minute passed, and then she inched closer, drawing his face down. “Let’s have the wedding here. On our terms,” she repeated.

The emotions flashed on his face too quickly for her to read at once. Then he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, exhaling heavily. When he looked at her again, Arya recognized the look on his face - it was the same look he’d had when he told her he loved her.

“I have got to be the luckiest man in the world,” he said quietly, “to have found you.” 

Arya smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Gendry’s hands framed her face, returning her kiss until it was seared onto her heart. “A thousand times, yes.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every day following their announcement brought a new question from Gendry.

It began over dinner: “What about your family?”

“Well, father and Nymeria are here already. Mother will bring the others, and Willas will bring Sansa.” 

The next day, in the middle of a sword lesson: “Won’t you miss Winterfell? You didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I made my peace with leaving the day we returned from King’s Landing. All that’s left there is clothing.” She bared her teeth in a grin. “Not that I particularly want any of it.” 

In the library: “Will your mother be upset?”

“As long as actually she sees me get married, I’m quite certain the rest won’t matter.” 

And so it went. Soon, she found she had questions for him, too. Would the king be upset? Did he want to invite anyone from King’s Landing? What about Hot Pie? Or that shopkeeper? 

His answer to the first question was a derisive snort. He would have loved to see Hot Pie, but it was unlikely to happen. “Time to make some new memories,” he grinned wickedly and kissed her, stopping any more questions for the timebeing.

Davos seemed downright gleeful when they asked his advice on a place for the ceremony. 

“Nothing too large or public,” Arya requested. “This is between us.”

“And possibly with a few more trees, if that’s possible,” Gendry said, aiming a grin at her.

Davos bowed, despite their constant protests to stop doing so. “I would be honored,” he said solemnly. “Allow me a few days.” 

True to his word, he found them two days later after dinner, on one of the balconies that overlooked the water. “I think I’ve found a location. Would you like to see it now, or in the morn-”

“Now,” they both said, and he smiled knowingly.

They were led back through the castle, through a series of passageways and turns that even Arya lost track of after some time. But she didn’t mind. When she said private, she meant it. Finally, fresh air drifted their way from an opening down the hall. Gendry took her hand as they walked through. 

They found themselves in a small clearing ringed by tall, lush trees, the jagged edge of a cliff not too far away. Arya could hear the waves of the bay crashing below against the rock walls. The breeze rushed through the trees, fresh and wild and welcoming. She closed her eyes for a moment, not realizing her face had already slipped into a smile. 

Lips brushed her cheek and she looked up at Gendry happily. Turning, she gave Davos a quick hug before she could change her mind. Though startled, the older man chuckled after a moment, gently patting her back. 

A bark startled her from behind.

“Nymeria!” She went to her friend, who was surveying the new area quite happily. 

“I think she approves,” Gendry grinned.

Nymeria chose that moment to sprawl on the ground, and Arya laughed. She plopped down next to her, and the wolf promptly shifted to put her head in Arya’s lap. “You might be right.” 

She looked back at Davos. “Thank you so much,” she said gratefully. 

“Of course, Miss Arya.” He bowed his head slightly, as always, before clapping Gendry on the shoulder and taking his leave. 

Gendry sat down in front of her, his hair ruffled by the wind. In his loose tunic and trousers, his face alight and unguarded, he looked like the boy she remembered from King’s Landing. It made her unabashedly happy, to think they could find that again here. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before she knew it, there were only two weeks left. Arya had done her best to stay away from all the reception plans and questions, instead begging Davos to simply keep it as low-key as possible. Then Gendry had suggested turning the reception into the welcome feast they’d never had, giving people the chance to meet them anew. Plus, it would hopefully erase any ill will people harbored at their decision to have a small ceremony.

They had found some time to escape into the practice yard for a duel when Luca and Amon found them. 

“Lady Arya. Your family-” was all Amon got out before she was off and running towards the front gates. Most people moved aside with small grins as they saw her coming. They’d learned after the first time, when she nearly bowled them all over in her haste to get to a newly pregnant Sansa, who had arrived just a few days before.

As soon as she reached the courtyard, her mind registered the arrival of several bodies. But her eyes were fixated on the man dressed entirely in black, who’d already swung off his horse. With a very unladylike yelp, Arya launched herself towards Jon. He caught her easily, laughing as he lifted her off the ground. His face was bright and open, so unlike the stoic demeanor he usually wore around others. She clutched him tightly for several minutes, breathing in the smell of winter and safety, letting herself feel like a little girl again. 

Then he set her down, pulling back but still grasping her shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Arya.” His eyes searched her face carefully. “How are you doing with all this?”

She shrugged. “Better than expected.” 

He was wary. Rightfully so. “And this _man_ -”

“Gendry,” she interrupted, setting her hands on her hips. “He has a name, you know.” 

Jon’s eyes widened, and an amused smile spread over his face. “You _like_ him!” Arya’s cheeks burned. Her brother nearly cackled. “I never thought I’d see the day you _wanted_ to be married.” 

“Shut up.” She punched him in the gut, sending a warning glance at Ghost’s bared teeth. “You too. Nobody said I wanted to be married. But since I must, I’d rather it was to him.” 

Jon was still trying to contain his laughter. Arya huffed and rolled her eyes, though a grin threatened to curl her lips also. Then she realized there was no familiar presence at her elbow, like she’d become so used to. Turning in confusion, she found Gendry well back, talking quietly with his men. She was on her way to get him when Jon called her name again. She looked back.

“Do you trust him?” 

Arya smiled. “I do.”

“Then I suppose I can’t object.” He smiled, and she hugged him one more time before marching over to Gendry.

“What are you doing back here?” She grabbed his wrist and began tugging him towards the others.

“I thought you’d want some time, you know, to greet your family,” he tried to protest.

“Idiot. They’re your family now, too.”

She didn’t miss how his face brightened at her words. He wrapped his hand firmly around hers, pulling it to his mouth for a brief kiss. Nymeria and Ghost were playing happily when they reached Jon. As Gendry shook his hand, Arya couldn’t help her wide grin.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Gendry was saying. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“I’m sure we’ll get to know each other well,” her brother replied smoothly. She hoped she was just imagining the undercurrent of threat. But Gendry hadn’t noticed at all. He was distracted by the pommel of Jon’s dagger. Jon noticed as well, looking to his belt. 

“Ah, yes. The thing got bent up during a nasty fight with …” He trailed off, surprised. “How can you tell?”

Gendry shrugged. “Well it’s not fitting properly into it’s sheath, and the hilt seems to be off center, not to mention-” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed. 

Arya nudged him, telling Jon, “He’s a smith. Ronan even lent him the forge back at Winterfell.”

“Just for a few hours,” Gendry intervened, his ears red. “If you want, I could take a look at your blade. I try to use the one here, when they can allow it. I just miss it sometimes.” 

“Sometimes? If he could marry the forge, he would,” Arya said, and Jon laughed. Gendry smiled sheepishly, but after her brother had turned away, he slung an arm about her shoulders.

His voice was so low she could barely hear him. Barely. “Between you and the forge, you’d win that fight every time, m’lady.” 

Arya blushed furiously, but hissed, “Why would you say that with my mother standing five feet away?”

He laughed loudly, only hugging her close before going to greet the rest of her family.

As expected, her mother had an endless stream of questions about the wedding. Arya directed her to Davos, who politely and patiently answered each one. Sansa, meanwhile, had promised to help her with the immediate issues - hair and wardrobe, of course. Though Arya rolled her eyes, she didn’t resist. It was times like these that she missed her sister dearly. Nobody dealt with this stuff better than Sansa.

The dress, though, her sister needn’t have worried about. It was the first thing Arya had taken care of after they’d decided to hold the wedding at Storm’s End. She’d found herself assigned a young maid that seemed almost as stubborn as herself. Davos’ doing, no doubt. But to her delight, she also found that Rae had a wicked sense of humor, and she gave Arya space when she wanted it. Not to mention she was very good at her job - the place was certainly much tidier than it would have been had Arya beeen left to her own devices. 

Rae had also pointed her to the castle’s tailor, who was more than happy to take on her requests for plain tunics and less fussier dresses. So when Arya tentatively approached her with the idea for a simple wedding dress, it had been much easier than expected.

She explained this to Sansa as she showed her the finished product, hanging safely in her wardrobe where Rae had put it. It was a plain thing, by most standards. Entirely white with wide sleeves, a narrow waist and flaring skirt. The only embellishments she’d allowed were a silver trim on the sleeves and neckline, complete with a line of pearl buttons that ran up the back. Her older sister was quiet for a long time, during which Arya nearly chewed her lip off with worry. But then Sansa simply swept her up in a tight hug, and Arya found herself returning it with little hesitation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next evening brought an unexpected arrival. Arya was sandwiched comfortably next to Sansa in her chambers as Gendry lounged in a chair. None of them had any intention of moving. That was when the horns sounded. She looked up in confusion, seeing the same expression mirrored on their faces. Then a knock sounded at her door, and Amon entered.

“I think you may want to see this,” he said quietly, and both she and Gendry sat up straighter at the cautious tone in his voice.

They were downstairs within minutes. Upon walking outside, Gendry stopped well short of the steps, his eyes locked on the stag banner in the courtyard. His mouth was set in a grim line. Arya tugged on his hand, needling him forward slowly. The small carriage door opened with little less than a bang, and a short man hopped out. His face appeared to be set in a constant expression of lazy amusement, but Arya recognized the court mask for what it was. His eyes found them immediately, and the expression slipped, becoming more serious. 

Gendry exhaled beside her. “Lord Tyrion.” 

She didn’t know if that was good or bad. But now it was Gendry who pulled her down the steps, stopping to at the bottom to bow low. Though surprised, she followed his lead. There was shadow of a smile on Tyrion’s face when he stopped in front of them. He gave a small bow as well - not mocking, simply polite. 

“Forgive me for the late arrival, and for all of … them,” he jerked his head back at the guards. “Clearly, I am not trusted to travel alone.” 

“M'lord…” Gendry trailed off, still obviously taken aback.

Tyrion grinned. “I’m here on behalf of the king,” he said, spitting out the title with little care. “If you would not mind having another guest at your wedding, of course.” 

When neither of them smiled back, his grin faded. Arya was startled when Davos spoke up behind her. 

“Were we expecting you, my lord?”

Tyrion’s eyes widened. “There should have been a letter. I was told it was sent weeks ago.” Seeing the confusion on all their faces, he groaned. “Which, I can see, it was not. In which case, I truly do apologize. Gendry, I was sent to be a witness to the marriage. I swear, nothing more.” 

It didn’t escape Arya that he’d done away with the title. Gendry was staring down at him. After a moment, his face softened and he allowed himself a faint grin. 

“Of all people, I must say I’m glad it’s you.” 

Any leftover tension quickly dissipated, and Davos ushered Tyrion inside for a late meal. Gendry explained to her later that night that the two of them met when he was still new to the court. He had been looking for a place to hide from all the eyes, and Tyrion quietly suggested the library might be a good spot, while also serving to sharpen his mind. Then, with just a few choice words, he caused a minor ruckus that gave Gendry enough time to slip away. Since then, they hadn’t exactly been friends, but they weren’t enemies either. In King’s Landing, sometimes that was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between her family and Tyrion’s entertaining presence, the remaining days passed quickly and before Arya knew it, the night before her wedding had arrived. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind just wouldn’t … _stop._ After some time, she kicked off her covers in frustration and pulled on a thick cloak over her nightgown. She latched her belt around her waist, comforted by Needle resting at her hip. 

Slipping out the door, she ran straight into Luca and Will. 

“Going somewhere, Lady Arya?”

She sighed. “For a walk. If you insist on coming, you’d better keep up.” 

There was a low chuckle, followed by one set of footsteps a respectable distance behind her. Arya smiled and shook her head, but kept walking. She walked past the guest chambers and through the main castle, and through the winding corridors. She’d come this way nearly every day for a full week now, to the point that she didn’t have to wonder which time to turn left or which of the three passages to take. 

Finally, she rounded a corner and felt the familiar breeze up ahead. What she didn’t expect was to see Amon in the entrance way. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, hand on his sword, before breaking into a surprised grin and bowing. She patted his shoulder as she moved past him eagerly, hearing Luca come to a stop beside Amon. 

The cool night air was instantly refreshing. Gendry was seated by the edge of the cliff, his face towards the water. He shifted, but didn’t turn at the sound of her steps. Contentedly, she curled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. His lips brushed against her hair.

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

She grinned, lacing her fingers with his. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” he said. “Can’t stop thinking.” 

He knew she understood. After a minute, he turned her hand over, tracing absent patterns into her palm. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Yes, we are,” Arya murmured. 

“Are you scared?”

“Yes. But not as much as I used to be.” She lifted her head to look at him. “For true.” 

Gendry smiled and brought her hand to his lips, kissing each of her fingertips in turn. 

When she had her breath back, she asked, “Are _you_ scared?” She was really curious.

“About marrying you? Not at all. That’s the easy part.” Her stomach flipped at the tender look on his face. Then he glanced out at the water, the easiness replaced by worry. “It’s all of _this_ ,” he flung an arm out, “that terrifies me.” 

Arya tilted his face back to her, leaning up until their lips met. Unlike other times, she wasn’t in a rush. She just let herself kiss him as much as she wanted to, for as long as she wanted to, hoping it would be enough to let him know that he wouldn’t be facing anything alone, not anymore. And that she might love him, too. 

It was a long time later that Gendry drew back, though he kept pressing soft kisses to the corner of her lips, across her jaw, until she laughed and squirmed. Then he raised his arm, letting her immediately shift closer before wrapping it around her again, resting his head atop hers. For a while they were quiet, but neither was even near sleep. When Gendry broke the silence, his voice was full of mischief.

“You know what I _am_ looking forward to?” 

“Hmm?”

“The wedding night.” 

A startled laugh escaped her at first, but it soon turned into a long sigh as his hands moved over her body. She practically _felt_ his teasing smirk as his fingers slid over her ribcage, slowly tracing down her sides. He was nuzzling her neck, his faint stubble leaving a trail of fire along her skin. It drove her mad, and at first she could only arch her neck to give him more room. Finally, she twisted her head, grasping a fistful of his tunic and pulling him close until their mouths collided. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya awoke with the sun the next morning, despite having gotten little sleep. She and Gendry had - very reluctantly - snuck back to their own rooms in the early morning, after her lips were properly swollen and his hair stuck up quite madly. She put a hand to her mouth, still tingling at the thought. With a grin, she hopped out of bed and managed to isolate herself for some time on one of the balconies before her mother and Sansa found her.

It seemed it was their mission to keep her and Gendry separated until that evening. So she was whisked off to the bath and scrubbed until she was raw, despite her vehement protests. All the while, her mother reminded her of the words they would be repeating later that day, while Sansa rolled her eyes and snuck her lemoncakes behind her back. 

Since she wasn’t allowed out of her mother’s sight, Arya had little to do but check her things and arrange for her items to be moved into Gendry’s chambers over the next few days. She didn’t have many things, but what she did have was precious to her. She trusted that Amon understood that.

Finally, her mother sat her down firmly in front of a mirror. Arya was about to protest only being in her shift when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her mother’s jaw was clenched, and she was blinking rapidly, as if trying not to crumble at any moment. That alone surprised Arya enough to keep her mouth shut. Gentle hands wove into her long hair, running through the twisted strands softly until the tangles were no more.

Catelyn finally coughed, meeting her gaze in the reflection. “Have you decided on what you want to do?”

Arya found her own throat was quite constricted, so she only said, “Something simple.” 

Her mother nodded, still running her hands through her hair. “I have an idea, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

Arya could only nod, and her mother briskly got to work. At some point, Sansa entered the room and sat down next to her, chattering away about the men and how much fun Willas was having exploring the castle. Arya focused on her voice, watching in the mirror as her long hair was pulled into two long braids that then roped over her head like a hairband. Her mother carefully pinned both ends down and placed both hands on the side of her neck.

“Too tight?”

Arya shook her head. “No. It’s perfect.” She twisted on the stool, hugging her mother around the waist. Strong, familiar hands enclosed her shoulders briefly, and then she was turned back around by Sansa.

Her sister laughed. “You’re not escaping us yet! My turn.” 

Arya rolled her eyes but remained still, letting Sansa take over. She didn’t complain when her eyes were outlined in black ink, or when color was applied to her lips. 

Only when her sister held out her dress did she start to feel the panic, the uncertainty, rise up again. Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought of Gendry, of his fingers wrapped tightly around hers on the rooftop in King’s Landing. That was who she was marrying. Not some old, unfamiliar lord she’d never seen before. Gendry. Her friend. 

Taking a deep breath, Arya opened her eyes and nodded, taking the dress from Sansa. 

Everything happened in a blur after that. Before she knew it, she was being ushered out the door, where a few of Gendry’s men were waiting. They all bowed, but each had a grin on his face that he couldn’t seem to wipe off. They easily fell into place behind her as she continued on with her mother and sister on either side. Her father met them in the small passageway before the clearing, but her heart was hammering so loudly that she missed what he said. When Arya looked up at him, he only smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead before offering his arm. 

Taking a deep breath, Arya stepped into the clearing. Her family was already waiting, but her gaze drifted past everyone until she found Gendry. His face broke into a wide smile, his eyes raking over her, and she had to remind herself to focus.

Soon she was standing directly across from him, only half-listening to the words being spoken by the septon. Davos wore an encouraging grin from where he stood a few paces away from Gendry. When it came time for the cloaking, Gendry cast an apologetic glance her way before taking the proferred cloak. Arya could see the familiar stag emblem woven into the material, and she felt a small part of her protest when it settled on her shoulders. Gendry, still behind her, let his hands rest on her shoulders a moment longer. His fingers trailed down her arm until he found her hand, and then she felt something cold and hard being pressed into her palm. Puzzled, Arya opened her hand as discreetly as possible. 

A small breath escaped her when she saw the small wolf token resting in her hold. Large fingers closed her hand again, holding tight, and she looked up to see Gendry give her a quick wink as he moved to stand next to her again, closer than before. She blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that were suddenly blurring her vision. As always, he understood her. 

They exchanged rings - simple gold bands that slipped onto each other’s fingers easily. Arya imagined a sigh of relief from everyone in attendance, and tried to stifle her laugh. Gendry was beaming. It was done, she realized. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This might be the best idea you’ve had yet,” Arya said.

Gendry chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder as they watched the merriment continue. Technically, it was their wedding reception, but enough ale was flowing to make sure most people forgot that and loosened up. There was food laid out on every table. Davos had outdone himself. Looking over, Arya saw he was enjoying himself greatly, listening to one of Tyrion’s stories as the smaller man gestured with his cup of wine.

She was pleasantly surprised that her family had kept a respectful distance after all the initial hugs and congratulations. Aside from the darting glances now and then, they seemed to be finally relaxing. She turned back to Gendry. His eyes were roaming among the crowd carefully, a small smile on his face. When she tugged on his shirt collar, he looked down at her and his smile widened.

“What are you thinking?” 

He pressed a light kiss on her nose. “I’m devising our escape plan.” 

Arya’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I wasn’t aware we needed one.” 

“Most likely we won’t. I don’t think people will be stable enough to carry a person, let alone get themselves home in one piece.” Gendry laughed softly, but her mind was stuck on the first part of his sentence. 

“Why would they carry anyone…?” _Oh._ The thought hit her like a rock, and she flushed. The bedding ceremony. How could she have forgotten? 

Gendry nudged her, butting his nose against her cheek. “They won’t be doing anything of the sort. I promise.” His blue eyes were steady on her, willing her to trust him. And she found that she did.

Tucking her head against his shoulder, she whispered, “Thank you.”

From then on, though, Arya was always aware of his hand on her shoulder, his fingers trailing all-too-innocently up her spine, tickling her sides when she least expected it. After one such incident that caused her to squeak, she hit his chest, glaring up at his smug expression.

“It’s not nice to tease, ser,” she scolded.

There was a glint in his eyes as he leaned closer. “Then maybe we should escape, my lady,” he grinned.

Her heart thrashed wildly in her chest as she tried to remember how to breathe. Glancing around, she wondered how far they could make it before someone noticed.

“Just say the word,” Gendry murmured. Looking up at him, she smiled, tugging him closer for a soft kiss. 

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay?” His eyes searched hers. Arya nodded, unable to help her grin, and he grinned back. 

Keeping a tight grip on her hand, he turned around, catching Amon’s attention. He mouthed something she couldn’t catch, and Amon looked across the crowd. At some unseen signal, a larger man staggered drunkenly into the crowd, swaying and lurching into various people. The protests began quietly, then grew louder, only to have the man respond by raising his voice. Arya stifled her laugh as others joined in the fray, while Gendry’s men looked on in great amusement. Finally, just as tensions might have boiled over, they practically strolled into the crowd to intervene.

“Now!” Gendry pulled her to her feet and they ran in the opposite direction, ducking into the passageways and turns they knew so well. By the time they arrived at his chambers, they were both laughing and out of breath. Gendry bolted the door behind them, still grinning. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes alight. 

“You’ve been planning that for some time,” Arya said.

He grinned, far too innocent. “Perhaps. Aren’t you glad I did?” He reached out to her, and Arya went willingly into his arms, sinking into the kiss.

At first, the kiss was hungry and eager, both of them still filled with adrenaline. Gendry’s hands were splayed on her back, pulling her as close as possible. Eventually, one of his hands trailed up, settling at her neck as he slowed the kiss, deepening it. Arya’s head was spinning when she finally pulled away to breathe. It wasn’t for long. She couldn’t get enough of him, and suddenly she found that nothing was standing in her way, and it made her giddy.

She yanked on his collar, bringing his mouth back to hers again. His lips were soft and sweet. Their tongues collided with an easy familiarity, and Arya sighed. She scraped her nails along the back of his neck, grinning when a shallow moan escaped his lips. He nipped her bottom lip in reply before continuing a line of kisses down her neck.

His nose nudged against the neckline of her dress when he could go no further, so Arya drew him up for another kiss, feeling his fingers press more insistently against the buttons along her spine. Pulling away, she took a step back. Gendry stood where he was, his eyes darkened to a stormy blue as he watched her. Arya took a breath and stepped out of her shoes. Then she turned her back to him.

She was nervous until the moment he stepped up behind her, until his lips touched the back of her neck. She was unable to stifle her gasp as a jolt ran through her body. His mouth curved briefly against her skin before deft fingers slipped open the top button of her dress. Then his lips moved further down, brushing over the newly revealed skin, before his hands undid the next button. Arya reached out to grasp something, anything, for support. Her hands landed on the bedpost as she sighed his name. Gendry undid the final buttons more impatiently, his hands grasping her by the waist and turning her for another kiss. Arya twisted her fingers into his hair, kissing him hard as he lifted her off the ground momentarily.

When they both broke apart for breath, Gendry looked at her for a long time, his hands on her shoulders. Arya stared back, finally smiling and giving him a small nod. He kissed her softly before his hands tugged at her dress, easing it off her shoulders along with her flimsy shift. Arya felt the material resist at first, but then her arms were free, and the dress fell to the ground at once, pooling at her ankles. She stood uncertainly in front of him in only her smallclothes, her skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Gendry was staring at her with nothing short of wonder. The look in his eyes made her impatient, and she began to fumble with his shirt. “You have too many clothes on,” she muttered.

A small laugh escaped him, but he did nothing to help her. Instead, his hands roamed teasingly, infuriatingly along her body, distracting her from her task. She was trembling by the time she managed to get his shirt off, linking her arms around his narrow waist to pull him flush against her.

“Wait,” he requested softly. 

Arya stilled, wondering if she’d done something wrong, though she couldn’t imagine what.

Gendry’s hands framed her face gently before he turned his attention to the pins holding her hair in place. She was frozen in place while he carefully removed them one by one, his fingers combing through the gnarled curls until they fell loosely over her shoulders. Then, winding his hands in her hair, he pulled her to him with a singular purpose, crashing their lips together.

They fell on the bed in a tangle, their soft laughter the only sound in the room. Arya ran her hands over his shoulders and back, tracing every dip and valley down his spine. A low moan rumbled from his chest, and she grinned smugly. Then Gendry was lowering himself down her body, his mouth and hands seemingly bent on exploring every inch of her. His lips found her breast, her belly button, her hipbone. There was no time to be embarrassed when he divested her of her smallclothes; she was already lost in the sensations running through her body. 

What she hadn’t expected was for his mouth to land directly on her cunt, his tongue dipping eagerly inside to taste her. The shock of the act, the sight of his head framed between her legs, was what sent her over the edge. His hands pressed down on her hips, holding her down as he continued to taste her greedily. Arya heard herself whimper his name repeatedly, unabashadly tilting her hips against his mouth. Finally, she managed to curl shaking fingers in his hair and forcefully pull him up. 

She kissed him curiously, tasting herself in the process. It wasn’t odd, just different. She pressed against Gendry, feeling his hard length along her thigh. Her core ached in response, and she reached blindly for the button on his trousers. His hands slid down her body, and she thought for a moment it was to help her. Then a finger traced slowly along her folds and she gasped, breaking the kiss as she arched off the bed. Gendry eased a long finger inside of her, and then another, and she helplessly pumped her hips.

Just as suddenly, his fingers were gone, and she looked up at him accusingly. “Tease,” she scolded, and he only laughed warmly. Then his hands were over hers, quickly removing his trousers and positioning himself above her. Now he looked far more concerned, as if he was worrying enough for them both. But all she could think of was getting him as close as possible, so she drew her legs up and urged him forward, her hands pressing on the dimples by his spine. His mouth covered hers as he slid inside her ever so slowly. Arya nearly cried from frustration; she wanted all of him, and she didn’t want to wait. So she tilted her hips up to meet him, feeling him push inside her suddenly, completely. Her head tossed back at the feeling of him, stretching and filling her wondefully. There was pain as her body rushed to adjust to him, but the pleasure was far more overwhelming. 

She opened her eyes to see Gendry leaning up on his elbows, his muscles strained as he watched her worriedly. Arya reached up, bringing his forehead down to hers. 

“You look like you’re in more pain than I am,” she teased. 

His expression cleared and he laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re something else, you know that?” His feelings were written on his face clear as day, and for once, she was learning not to be scared of them. Leaning down, he captured her lips in a sweet kiss before slowly beginning to move. Arya clutched his shoulders tightly, rising to meet his thrust, and he groaned. His head dropped to her shoulder, his hair brushing against her heated skin. She was on fire, her arms and legs wrapped around him like a vise as they settled into a quick rhythm, their restraint long gone. 

He murmured into her ear, against her skin - sweet things she never thought she would want to hear but now craved. Arya peaked first with a small cry as the built-up tension inside her exploded, leaving her limbs warm and heavy. Her core was throbbing, still aware of Gendry hard inside of her, and she squeezed her legs around him. He lifted up just enough to kiss her deeply, biting her lower lip as his hips jerked against hers a final time. 

With a sigh, his head dropped to her shoulder again, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Arya was more than content to lay there wrapped around him, her fingers absently playing with his messy dark hair. Her pulse was still pounding in her ears. 

Then Gendry abruptly lifted off her, and she protested at the loss of him. He smiled and tucked an arm around her shoulder, bringing her close. His expression wavered between satisfied and uncertain, and she sighed. “Go ahead and ask whatever it is you want to.”

The question left his mouth immediately. “Are you alright?” 

“Do I not look alright?” She grinned up at him, pleased when he returned it.

“You’ve never looked better,” he responded cheekily.

Despite everything, he still made her blush. Arya swatted his chest, only to have him laugh and haul her up for a kiss. When Gendry finally pulled back, he cupped her cheek gently. “My wife,” was all he said, the words tinged with awe.

Arya’s throat tightened, her heart hammering inside her ribcage. “That’s right,” she told him. “You’re stuck with me now.” 

“I thought it was the other way around,” he said, and she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
**A few months later**

Arya ran through the castle, her boots clattering on stone. People moved out of her way swiftly, not bothering to hide their smiles. Arya certainly wasn’t hiding her glee. Turning a corner, she nearly crashed into Davos. 

Amused, he steaded her before raising an eyebrow. “Looking for someone?”

“Where is he, Davos? I’ve been looking everywhere!” 

The older man smiled. “Your husband is in the East tower, looking over repairment plans with Master Waterton.”

She grasped his arm briefly in thanks before dashing off, hearing his chuckles echo behind her. Finally, she reached the east wing, taking the steps two at a time. Needle hung at her waist. Pulling herself up the last step, she was about to bang on the door when it swung open.

Blue eyes glimmered in amusement. “I thought so,” Gendry grinned. “Only you could make that much noise.” 

“Shut up,” Arya replied, but there was no bite behind it. “Come on,” she yanked at his sleeve, barely letting him give further directions to the other men as they descended the stairs. Her hand slid down his wrist to lace their fingers together.

“Am I allowed to know where we’re going in such a rush?” Gendry inquired.

Arya smiled over her shoulder. “You’ll see.” 

They walked back to the main hall hand-in-hand. She grinned at the sight of Davos waiting outside the large doors.

“I take it this was your doing?” He looked expectantly at Arya, who bounced on her toes and nodded.

Gendry was glancing between both of them in confusion. “What was? What did you do?”

Arya leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips before turning him in the direction of the hall. “Go in and see.” 

Though still puzzled, he did as she asked, opening the door and stepping inside. Arya slipped in behind him, trying to contain her excitement. The hall was mostly empty, and Gendry turned back to her after a cursory glance. 

“Arya, what-”

“This place is _huge_!” 

Gendry’s eyes widened at the exclamation and he whirled around. The lone figure in the room had stumbled out from behind one of the large columns. Arya could see the flour on his trousers from where she stood. Gendry looked at her again, as if for confirmation that this was real, and she nodded, giving him a shove forward.

He took a few steps forward, and then another. His voice was ripe with disbelief when he said,“Hot Pie?”

Hot Pie looked over and grinned massively. “You never told me you were going to live _here!_ ” He paused. “Do I have to call you my lord now?” 

Gendry was silent for a moment. Then he burst out laughing and crossed the remaining distance to his friend, enveloping him in a hug. “No,” he finally said, “I’m still Gendry.”

“Good. That would have been strange,” replied Hot Pie, and Arya let out a short laugh of her own.

Gendry was still a bit in shock. “I can’t believe… How long are you here?”

Hot Pie peeked around him to look at Arya. “You haven’t told him?”

“Well, that _is_ the whole point of a surprise,” she drawled, grinning. Both she and Hot Pie were silent for a few minutes, as she watched Gendry get more and more agitated by what he didn’t know.

“Well?” He finally burst out.

Arya laughed delightedly, finally going to him. “Hot Pie is going to open a bake shop in the village,” she said, watching the realization dawn on him.

His eyebrows lifted nearly off his head as he turned back to his friend. “Really?”

Hot Pie nodded. “And I’ve already spoken with a few of the inkeeps. They say they could use some help, too.” 

Gendry was astounded by all the information. “So… you’re staying?”

“Of course!” Hot Pie grinned.

“How did you… when did you… how is this even possible?”

“Oh well it was all Lady Arya’s doing, she set up the whole thing, and-”

“We can get into details later,” Arya interrupted hurriedly. “And I told you, I’m not a lady.” 

Just then, Davos poked his head into the hall. “Master … erm… Hot Pie. I have your things ready, if you’d like to see your chambers for the timebeing.” 

Hot Pie was more than happy to follow him, and Arya heard the tail end of some kitchen-related questions as they headed outside. Grinning, she turned back to Gendry, who was looking at her in complete astonishment. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to speak.

“You…,” he began, his voice quiet. “You are something else,” he said, and crushed her in an embrace. Arya wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck. Her heart had nearly burst, seeing him so happy.

Gendry finally pulled back, just enough to see her face. “What made you do all of this?” 

“Consider it a belated wedding gift.”

“Arya.”

She smiled up at him. “I did it because I love you, idiot.”

He went completely still, staring at her so intently that she was lost in his gaze, trapped in place. Then his eyes closed and he let out a shaky breath, his mouth already beginning to curve up. Arya pulled his head down, brushing her nose against his. His arms surrounded her as his lips met hers, stopping time. 

A loud whoop from Hot Pie finally made them separate. He squeezed through the doorway, his words practically tripping over each other in his excitement. Arya grinned.

“You need a break, and I do believe he needs a tour guide,” she said.

Gendry put an arm around her shoulders. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair. 

Together, they crossed the hall to Hot Pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed. A short epilogue will be coming :)


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned POV.

Ned urged his horse to a trot as the gates came into view, hearing Catelyn chuckle behind him. He smiled, unbothered. Everyone in Westeros knew he wanted to see his baby girl. As he approached, though, he found that he needn’t have bothered to hurry. One of the heavy oak doors opened and his youngest daughter came flying out, her braid whipping behind her as she hitched up her skirt and dashed through the puddles. 

The people around them grinned to themselves, inclining their heads only briefly as she passed. Ned laughed and swung down from his horse just in time for Arya to launch herself at him. He stood up with his arms full of her, still laughing as they clung to each other tightly.

“I’ve missed you, sweetling.”

“Missed you too.” The words were muffled by his coat.

Looking over her shoulder, he saw Gendry’s broad form approaching as well, though much more slowly. He was weaving amongst the people he met on the way, stopping to chat with nearly every other person with an easy grin. Ned loosened his grip on Arya, setting her down gently. She smiled happily before her head swiveled side to side, her face drawn in confusion for a moment before she turned, clearly looking for her husband. The sight made Ned immensely happy.

Then she faced him again, half-exasperated. “It’s a miracle he gets anything done, really, the way he gets distracted.” Her smile took away any bite the words could have carried. Instead, she said it in a familar, easy manner, as if she’d told him a hundred times and would continue to do so.

“Darling, where have you been?” Catelyn was looking in concern at Arya’s dirt-splattered clothes.

“Oh.” Arya glanced down sheepishly. “We were in the practice yards. I’d just finished a short lesson with a few of the villagers and then we just … kept going, for a while longer.”

“It’s my fault, really.” Gendry had finally reached them, placing a hand on Arya’s shoulder. “I arrived rather late and insisted we keep at it. Lost track of time, as it were.”

Arya’s eyes lit up. “Father, you haven’t seen my dagger!” She reached for the belt at her waist, pulling out the blade. It was thick and stout, and obviously well-sharpened, with a silver hilt. “Isn’t she lovely?”

Ned took the blade carefully, testing its weight and lilt before handing it back. “It certainly is.” His gaze shifted to Gendry. “Would I be correct to guess it was a gift from you?”

Gendry chuckled. “You would. I asked one of the smiths to give me a few hours in his forge for a few days, when he could spare it. I gave it to Arya as a gift for our first year anniversary.”

He looked at her tenderly, brushing hair back from her cheek. She smiled before turning back to Ned. “Quite sneaky of him, was it not?”

“I learned from the best,” Gendry returned, and she stuck out her tongue. 

“I hope your blade has a name?” Ned looked at his daughter expectantly, and her face brightened even more.

“Lady.” She grinned wickedly as Ned began to laugh. 

Gendry looked at her happily for a moment longer. Then he glanced past Ned at Catelyn and the small wagon that had accompanied them, and his spine straightened as he remembered his role again.

“You must be tired from your journey,” he said graciously. “Please, come along. We’ve kept everything ready for you.”

Ned walked with them, letting Arya chatter on about her newest project. It seemed, as lady of Storm’s End, she had created all sorts of work for herself, and she seemed quite satisfied by it. Gendry was quiet, though he had no shortage of smiles or handshakes for the people they passed. He often stopped to chat with many of them as if they were old friends, until a tug or glance from Arya brought him back. Ned was highly amused by it all.

His old friend was standing in the courtyard when they entered. Ned quickened his pace, giving Davos a hearty handshake.

“Did I not tell you they would do just fine?” The other man grinned.

“You did,” Ned acknowledged. “Though I know your presence aided them greatly.” 

Davos shrugged it off, going to greet Catelyn, but Ned didn’t miss how easily his friend now moved, removed from the constant strain of Stannis. Turning, he saw Arya’s face twisted in a pout at something Gendry had said. He was doing his best not to laugh, but couldn’t resist tweaking her nose anyways. His accompanying words were too low for Ned to hear.

Then Catelyn said, “Arya, I do hope you’ll be getting changed for dinner?”

His daughter glowered as Gendry coughed loudly, trying to keep his expression neutral. Then Arya’s glare was gone as she rolled her eyes. “Of course I will.” She began pushing Gendry ahead of her. “Come on, you, let’s go.” 

Ned’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the Lord of Storm’s End obediently, if amusedly, being pushed along by his small wife. From the faint smiles of the others in the courtyard, it was a familiar sight. Even Catelyn’s mouth twitched. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, he was taking a walk around the castle when he heard low voices coming from around the next corner. He slowed his steps, not wanting to interrupt, and was about to turn back when he realized one of the voices was Arya. _It’s not polite to eavesdrop,_ he reminded himself. But still, he inched closer, unable to help his curiosity.

“I think they were quite pleased, don’t you?” Gendry was asking.

“Of course they were. I told you, nobody thought I’d last this long. Well, maybe father did. But besides that…” she trailed off in a laugh. 

Ned peered around the corner to see the entranceway to a wide balcony occupied by a single white bench. It was here that Arya was perched, with Gendry lying sideways along the length of the bench, his head in her lap. Nymeria was curled comfortably at Arya’s feet.

“I think Davos would have bet on us,” Gendry mused. 

“I’m sure he did.” 

He toyed absently with her braid. “Did your mother say anything about children again?”

“Not in so many words. I think Sansa’s baby boy is proving to be a great distraction at the moment.” Ned grinned to himself. He certainly was. “Though,” Arya continued, “I did catch her looking at my stomach earlier, probably trying to figure out if it looked any rounder.” 

Ned had to resist the urge to knock his head against the wall. He’d told Catelyn plenty a time that having Arya married was no small victory in itself. Children would come only if and when she was ready. Seeing her here, so obviously content with Gendry, was all that he could have asked for. 

Gendry was chuckling softly. “I’m guessing that’s why you took my cup of ale at dinner?” 

Arya stuck her tongue out, but she was grinning freely as well. "I think I got my point across," she said. Then her smile faded, and she began to chew on her lower lip uncertainly. Gendry’s fingers brushed against her cheek.

“What’s wrong, love?”

She sighed, pressing a kiss to his palm in a familiar, timeless gesture. “I just…. I know she thinks I’m strange, not wanting a child right away. Most women would be nursing their first-born right now. And yet I’m just thankful to have made it past a year of being wedded.” 

“Well, you’re not most women,” Gendry said, a bit defiantly. “And I love you all the more for it.” 

Arya smiled faintly, though she was still clearly worried. Ned wanted to envelop her in his arms, but she’d never forgive him for listening in on them. Especially when it came to this topic. But Gendry was determined, too.

“It isn’t just you,” he was saying. “Gods know I’m not ready for it, either, and certainly won’t be for some time yet. And it’s not something that will be decided by anyone else. We’re in this together, remember? If and when it happens, it will only be because both of us want it to.”

Arya was staring down at him. “I love you,” she whispered after a moment. He smiled. 

They were silent for a few minutes, her hand absently brushing over his hair. Ned was about to leave when Gendry asked, “Do you miss it terribly? Winterfell? With your parents here and all?”

Arya’s face grew thoughtful. One of her hands found his before she answered. “I don’t think I miss it any more than I always will. I love them, and they remind me of it, yes, but… it’s different, now.” 

Gendry twisted his head, leaning slightly over the bench. “And what about you, Nymeria, hmm?”

His answer was a small snore from the wolf, making them both laugh. 

“That means she’s happy, too,” Arya teased, and Gendry kissed their joined hands.

“Good. Then I must be doing something right.” 

A soft smile crossed Arya’s face and she leaned down to kiss him gently. 

Ned turned away, walking back through the castle with a spring in his step. He couldn’t wait to tell Catelyn that maybe they’d gotten a few things right, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who read this story and offered encouragement along the way. I really enjoyed writing this AU and I hope you all had fun reading it!   
> PS, I'm sure they have children much later on ;)


End file.
